Snippet #8

I hate that the next person who hugs you won’t care if it feels like home to you. I hate that the next time you smile shyly at someone he won’t die a little inside, because damn but that moment of privilege when you rewarded him with that smile is gone, and he doesn’t know now what to do to bring it back. If only so he could tuck it in his pocket and go over it when you sleep beside him at night. I hate that the next person who’s love you will want won’t actually know how to love you right.

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