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... heels, and bad coffee.
We fell into a routine. A strange, secret routine that existed in the pockets of time between school and life.
Monday, we met in the library. Hidden behind the stacks of encyclopedias nobody touched anymore. Lia sat cross-legged on the floor, her skirt pooled around her, while I paced. We played Baccarat.
"So have you ever thought of getting a haircut?" Lia asked.
"I don’t need one."
"I think if you stop covering your face, you’ll lo ...
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