[ Though the span of her life is considerably shorter, faced with a similar experiment, Grace has to confess to similar results. There's no one person she remembers so strongly as to blot out all of the others (no one save him, though the confession doesn't seem to take as much effect as she'd like). Arguably, it's because she just hasn't had time — because she's been too wrapped up in everything else (everything apart from the heart) to notice or care. Arguably, it's just because she's growing up, and she'll move on to some movie star or pop artist or grocery store clerk in a matter of time. (She doubts it, but it's the frustrating nature of love that it isn't exactly quantifiable.)
Resisting the urge to roll her eyes (too childish, and ultimately unnecessary), she lets her arm drop back to the mattress, limp hand hanging over the edge. ]
Cross your heart, then, if you're so afraid to touch me.
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Resisting the urge to roll her eyes (too childish, and ultimately unnecessary), she lets her arm drop back to the mattress, limp hand hanging over the edge. ]
Cross your heart, then, if you're so afraid to touch me.