Infatuation

I knew more about her for never having spoken to her. We didn't need to. Because the way she looked at me sometimes, that said it all. She wanted me. She didn't mind that I'd stop by her apartment late, or that I'd watch her sleep, buried under her gray blanket, while the stars strung around her room blinked on and off to the rhythm of her breathing.

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20. Avery

Hannigan Park was nearly empty, save for the man sitting on the bench. He had his jacket pulled tight, and a scarf around his neck. He kept glancing at his phone, probably waiting for me.

As I approached, Adam looked up.

"Hello," he said. "Sorry to get you out of bed so late. This was really unnecessary. I apologize for the inconvenience."

I shrugged and sat down next to him. "I was awake anyway. I have trouble sleeping at night sometimes. So, the phone call..."

He turned to me, his dark eyes glassy. "I killed that woman."

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