From Pulled, Page 16
There is nothing unusual about how he enters the room, unless you notice his dark eyes glued to the floor, which I do.
I am instantly struck by how uncomfortable he seems to be. He walks quickly to a seat in the front of the room, diagonally from where I sit, his left side facing the wall.
I feel like I should introduce myself, but there is something about the way he sits in his chair that makes me hold my tongue.
It’s as though he’s willing himself to blend in with the room and not be noticed. I can respect that; I want the same thing.
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