She rushes to her bag, tearing her phone from the front pocket. This time, I know we’re done for real, so I move to put everything back in the container, lock it up, and make my way to where she’s standing. “You know, you did pretty damn—” “I have to go,” she cuts me off, runs to grab her sweater from the fence, and tugs it over her head before lifting her bag off the ground. Trips me out how she dropped it right there without a care. I’ve never known a girl who didn’t mind the dirt like that. Backpack on one shoulder, she shoves her phone in the pocket of her hoodie and begins to walk away.
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