I’m reading my book in my library and notice you are feeling uncomfortable. We are ‘roommates’, as we say, and understand each other’s feelings easily. I need to make you talk, as something’s definitely wrong, and I need to help, even if I have to use force. I walk over to you and wrap my arms around your waist tightly, wanting to talk to you, my face forming a serious look. I never learned what happened to your parents. I’m nervous, as you’ve cut off from me. I know your sick n starved
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