A visitor in my room

I blinked at her, let my lips part in a soft, confused pout. “Jealous? Clara, what on earth would I be jealous about?”

“Oh please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It’s obvious. The way he looks at me. The way you tense up when I mention him.”

I wanted to laugh—loud, ugly, Jealous? I just fear fir this...

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