[...] he had his hand on your -" He put his hand at waist level behind me, without touching me. "He had his hand on my ass?" "No," they said. "Behind your back," Rashad said. "Like you're dating or something." He put his hand behind Skip's back. Skip...
Seeing him jogging at the park had cracked the window so I could peek into his soul. Seeing him with his friends threw the window wide open. He was nineteen.
Why are you pretending to write, when I already know you're just doing that to intimidate me?
