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“But his tone is familiar, feeling like dancing in a dark room and thumb wars under willow trees. The way the words rolled off of his tongue felt like a light flick to the tip of my nose, like calloused fingers braiding silver hair. It felt like Kai. Like the man behind the masks who looked at me like I was extraordinary. I blink at the crumbling rocks crowding the path, willing my mind to wander toward anything but the words that have me wishing things were different. But I am Ordinary. I am the embodiment of the weakness he has been taught to hate. Ordinary.” — Lauren Roberts
But his tone is familiar, feeling like dancing in a dark room and thumb wars under willow trees. The way the words rolled off of his tongue felt like a light flick to the tip of my nose, like calloused fingers braiding silver hair.
It felt like Kai.
Like the man behind the masks who looked at me like I was extraordinary.
I blink at the crumbling rocks crowding the path, willing my mind to wander toward anything but the words that have me wishing things were different. But I am Ordinary. I am the embodiment of the weakness he has been taught to hate.
Ordinary.