my clothe floor.

    quot;Im sorry but you look like my eig; Sally began to pick up ; be mad.quot;

    But I  so muc  myself. I kne s I ten. In most respects, I appeared all of fifteen, but I ed one of tant parts. As I dressed, ed, I t of all t feeet of my moutretco groo adolescence. But I ten about puberty. So stay, apologized for laug me, even saying at one point t size didnt matter, t it ually kind of cute, but noto  for t basic greetings. Solen a afternoon.

    Stretcuation, but ted consequences. t ion t typically ended in t, more interestingly, I found t by imagining Sally or any ots  t t, baseball, arpeggios—I could postpone, or avoid altoget. tcome is someing to report. Maybe because to annoy  into my room and caug, red-o speak, altely under cover. ohe ceiling.

    quot; are you doing?quot;

    I stopped. t explanation, w reveal.

    quot;Dont t kno;

    Knoed to ask.

    quot;You  it.quot;

    I blinked my eyes.

    t time. Farsigance —all ually disappeared, and my ability to manipulate my appearance eriorated. More and more, I ed to be, but instead of rejoicing in tuation, I sagged into ttress, s. I puncortured t to get comfortable. Any ion. In pleasures place, a ragged loneliness ebbed. I felt stuck in a never-ending co living under trol, a dozen suspicious sco, I o mark time and take my turn as a c ty of adolescence, ts could be endless.

    Several er, I  and to to let in tted out on t, tte, and picked out taring into ting for som