I Wondered If He Ever Thought Of

Holding People Away From You, And Denying Yourself Love, That Doesn't Make You Strong. If Anything, It Makes You Weaker. Because You're Doing It Out Of Fear.

It Was A Basic Plot In Any Number Of Her Books: Girl Strikes Out, Makes Good, Finds Love, Gets Revenge. In That Order. The Making Good And Striking Out Part I Liked. The Rest Would Just Be Bonus.

And That Was As Far As He Got Before I Heard It. The Thumping Of Footsteps, Running Up The Lawn Toward Me: It Seemed Like I Could Hear It Through The Grass, Like Leaning Your Ear To A Railroad Track And Feeling The Train Coming, Miles Away. As The Noise Got Closer I Could Hear Ragged Breaths, And Then A Voice. It Was My Mother.

A Second Later, When He Looked Up At Me, We Were Face To Face, And Again, Even Under These Circumstances, I Was Struck By How Good Looking He Was, In That Accidental, Doesn't-even-know-it Kind Of Way. Which Only Made It Worse. Or Better. Or Whatever. "yup", He Said, As If There'd Been Any Doubt, "you're In There, All Right." "i Was Warned, Too,"i Told Him, As He Stood Up. "i Just Saw That Sculpture, And I Got Distracted." "the Sculpture?" He Looked At It, Then At Me. "oh, Right. Because You Know It.

Look. We Both Know Life Is Short, Macy. Too Short To Waste A Single Second With Anyone Who Doesn't Appreciate And Value You.