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I’ as he says, “Goodbye, Finley”

And he’s gone

Twenty-Six

Finley

Every time he throws the ball, a cold sweat prickles my skin

“Did you see that?” Anna laughs I curve my hand around my forehead

“I’ to lose an eye”

Anna chuckles, and I peek around u his arht be sick, so I look at ain

A moment later, Anna says, “You can look back up, you ninny! Mayor Acton struck out”

I lower aze to sweep the h, as he’s exchanging words with Declan I schoolhe looks sheepish underneath the bill of his Sox cap Sheepish and utterly delectable

The afternoon is gray anda baseball shirt—white at the torso, dark blue on the arms—that stretches over his chest and shoulders Paired with it, cargo-style khaki shorts and sneakers Every tie and his forearm muscles tauten

I can’t watch without a flipping feeling deep down in my belly It’s like an illness I can’t shake my automatic response It’s not just my body, either My mind is like a train that’s confined to a circular track, running as fast as its engine will allow but never getting anywhere new I feel dazed Hyper-focused on him I’m lost in the shape of him, the way he moves The way his hs

Near the game’s end, Declan hits the ball off Daniel Sh into the milky white sky For a mo like a golden god, and I have no good excuse not to watch

“Quite ahts

“Might be ood”