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It’s as if there is a thin glass wall between him and Michael, between every movement. A hand touch is nothing short of a hand touch, but nothing beyond it, thanks to the glass layer between their skin. But Jeremy likes to imagine it’s not glass. Wants to think it’s saran wrap, and he can just peel it off and dive in. But then the words ‘only friend’ rattle around his brain and thicken the crystals, and suddenly so close is instead so far and his words are muffled by glass, and he fears he'll always be stuck midway.
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