[Her rolling away from him elicits the same sharp chill he felt when she flinched away from his hand. It's that feeling of rejection, that feeling that the distance between them is growing again despite having become so intimately close. Of course, didn't he essentially drive her away with his words? So he can only stare at her back, hoping that this place won't reveal his emotions again.
She thinks he's so great with words, but really he doesn't know how much he should say. How much he should tell her. If he should ever tell her. In the end he just resigns to himself and stays where he is.]
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She thinks he's so great with words, but really he doesn't know how much he should say. How much he should tell her. If he should ever tell her. In the end he just resigns to himself and stays where he is.]
But I don't think we were ready for it.
["It." "This." Whatever the hell "this" is now.]