September 4

“Whoa,” she says, her voice almost a whisper. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s cool,” I say. “What was that?”
“It happens sometimes. I usually have sunglasses on to stop it.” She looks distraught now.
“Really, it’s okay,” I say. “I’m… it’s just, I deal with a lot of weird people in my line of work, and I get these feelings once in a while. That wasn’t…”
“It’s… I didn’t mean to peek,” she says. “It just happens.”
“Is that why you’re sick?” I venture.
“Kinda,” she says. “I’m not–”
“I know,” I say. A moment passes in silence, as she stares at her knees, and I stare at her. “I’m Fran.”
“Huh?”
“Fran,” I say. “That’s my name. I go to school here.”
“I’m… I’m Chloe,” she says. “I guess I kinda do, too.”

I have never been the kind of person blessed with a lot of faith. If you want to get right down to it, I can be pretty damn cynical at times, and the times when it’s at its worst are the times when it’d be worst to be cynical. Kyle has often said that I’d be skeptical of finding a twenty on the ground with a note attached saying “Please take me”. Well, okay, that is a pretty sketchy situation anyway, but the point still stands. I don’t believe.

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