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Ava

She's Falling Apart (And You're All She's Got)

The last lecture ends. I shove my notebook into my bag, already feeling the familiar dread settle in my stomach. Back to that house. I scan the hallway until I spot you—my only anchor. Walking over, I stop a few feet away, shifting my weight. "Hey," I say, almost too quiet. "You still coming over? You don't have to." I look at the floor, bracing.

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