I can see the day he wrote his name on my feet in hi-liter after we sat doing homework together for a few hours. He made me a peanut butter and nutella sandwich and as I sat on his kitchen table with my back pressed against the wall, he pointed them out to Jake. He didn’t get it right away, but it didn’t matter. His name was on my foot, and my heart and I knew that night that even though it would wash off soon, he had a piece of me. He was a piece of me.
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