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... ounded like a tangle of feelings was brewing beneath her words. Before I could even say "ask away," she continued.
"What... do you think of me?"
A question loaded with meaning.
I scratched my head, pondering, then replied—
Scratch, scratch.
"I think of you as a good friend."
Friendship. That’s how I saw us. Well, maybe a friendship where I owed her a bit, but that was the gist of it.
"...A friend," she repeated, her voice sinking, her eyes ...
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