He touches my face, covering my cheeks with his hands, sliding his fingertips down my neck, fitting his fingers to the slight curve of my hips. I can't stop.
Come on,'he says.' I have something else to show you.
I suppose everything is bound to look different when you aren't on your way to die.
My first instinct is to push you until you break just to see how hard I have to press.
I am proud. It will get me into trouble someday, but today it makes me brave
What irritates me most about him is his natural goodness, his inborn selflessness.