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“Are you claustrophobic?" His face, inches from mine, was etched with worry. "I could see you didn't want to go in. I just... I just thought you were being—" I shut my eyes. "I just want to go now." "Hold on to my hand. We'll go out." He knew the maze backward, he told me as we walked, his voice calm, reassuring. I entwined my fingers with his and felt the warmth of his hand as something comforting.” — Jojo Moyes
Are you claustrophobic?" His face, inches from mine, was etched with worry.
"I could see you didn't want to go in. I just... I just thought you were being—"
I shut my eyes. "I just want to go now."
"Hold on to my hand. We'll go out."
He knew the maze backward, he told me as we walked, his voice calm, reassuring. I entwined my fingers with his and felt the warmth of his hand as something comforting.