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“Good, because I’ve been sneaking my things here every week, waiting for the day you’d ask.”
“Where is all your stuff?”
“Spare room closet.”
“You are so weird.”
“That might be so, but I’m your weirdo. You’re stuck with me.”
“Like glue?”
He pulls me into his lap and pushes some hair behind my ear.
“Like glue.”
***
