![]() ![]() My hair, which used to be waist length and usually in need of a good brushing, is now shiny and straight and stops a few inches below my shoulders. I draw an uneven breath that doesn’t quite fill my lungs, and turn toward him. But Tina’s words echo in my head, and I repeat them like a mantra: Don’t run, take responsibility, be yourself. I want to bolt, to forget about the strawberries and find the nearest exit. My body vibrates like the low rumble of a faraway train and I’m grateful for the freezer’s cold air as my core temperature shoots up. It’s been ten years since we’ve seen each other and though I often struggle to recognize people out of context, there’s no need for me to question whether or not it’s him. I’m poking around in the freezer case, searching for the strawberries I put in my morning smoothie, when a man’s voice somewhere off to my right says, “Annika?” He sounds unsure.įrom the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of his face. ![]() I run into him at Dominick’s, of all places. ![]()
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