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Summary
Our little secret.
She expects it to be like most other things with Dr. Jack Abbot: a passing comment, a breath of exhilaration, a moment of feeling seen—really seen—before she washes it off in the shower with the lingering sweat and smell of antiseptic.
Until. Until a day or a week or a month passes, and she realizes it's hovering at her periphery, and she will wonder when it turned from nothing into something.