“She belonged to me,” he said simply. “She was, you know, all the things I wasn’t. And I was all the things she wasn’t. She could paint circles around anyone; I can’t even draw a straight line. She was never into sports; I’ve always been.” He lifted his outstretched palm and curled his fingers. “her hand,” he said “It fit mine.”

tootiredtodream:

(via randombeliever)

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