LOOM OF THORNS
He petted my hair, awkward but steady, letting my grief run its course until my sobs turned into jagged hiccups.
"You need to eat," he said abruptly, standing up. "You look like you’re about to faint. Stay here."
I watched through blurry eyes as the campus "King" disappeared into his kitchenette. I heard the clatter of pots and the hiss of a gas burner. After a few minutes, the scent of ginger and curry began to fill the room, cutting through the heavy smell of my own sorrow.
"Come here," he called out.
I stood up, wiping my face with the oversized sleeves, and wandered into the kitchen. Josh was standing over a pot of boiling pasta, his brow furrowed in concentration as he chopped spring on
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