![]() His boots clomp annoyingly with each step. “No, I’m not.” I push past him and walk toward my car, but he falls into step right beside me. His eyes shift to the duffel bag slung over my shoulder. Today everything is black, aside from his bright-blue Phillies baseball cap. He’s wearing his usual getup: a T-shirt, basketball shorts, and Timberland boots. It’s hard to believe we were once the same height. I get a whiff of cigarette smoke and fresh laundry. Eli only moves back a few inches, so when I turn around, he’s right there. I step outside and lock the door behind me. With that smile and his light-brown complexion, he looks like the lead singer of an R & B group. Eli always smiles like he knows something that you don’t. He grins from ear to ear, flashing his white teeth. ![]() Not Mom or Jean-Marc returning for another forgotten item, about to catch me in the act. ![]() I stare at him, willing my pulse to return to normal. ![]()
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