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I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell the world how I felt about her at the top of my lungs while I stood on the highest mountaintop. It was so much that I wanted to weep in frustration. I lacked the poetry, the art to express how I felt. I could not fit such a feeling into a single word. I couldn’t fit such a feeling into a whole dictionary’s worth of words. I quit trying and just basked in the feeling that I had never known up to this point in my life. The phone rang rousing me from my reverie. I cursed the interloper silently. I walked gingerly over to the phone while muttering soft curses to myself. I picked up the receiver and felt the cold plastic against my ear. I answered in my normal fashion. ‘Bob’s pizzeria. We bake them, you take them.’ David was on the other end of that line. He told me that he had some bad news and that I needed to meet him at the police station. When I heard the gravity in his voice as he said those words I shuddered slightly. The rain became an ominous. Hope dies last, I suppose. Even if it's so preposterous and kinda perverted that someone would just come up to me, corner me like one of those cocky, handsome bastards from my novel, and say something like-“It's cute how you're pretending to ignore me.”Either I'm having auditory hallucinations or he's actually reading the same books as me, and quoting from them randomly at random strangers in random narrow elevator cabins. My breath halts in my lungs. I don't dare to move a muscle. Which, I realize, is very stupid. It's not like I'm not in plain sight to him. I entertain the idea of playing deaf. What a waste that would be, though. His voice is deep and pleasant. And closer than expected.And now I'm crossing into tactile hallucinations, because I can feel a touch on the small of my back, and the whisper of a breath against the shell of my ear. His voice sends tickling vibrations zapping down my spine. I want to squirm away from the intensity of it, but I don't.“If that's how you want.
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