11/21 You asked if the story was about us. My story. The one I wrote two weeks ago for class. The one I spoke of when I was on the phone with him, as I sat on the hood of my car; you sat in the passenger seat, staring at your phone, pretending to make a phone call. What makes “us?” Who is “we?” All I know is, it takes more than one person to make an us. You haven’t...
Ripped School Envelope
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