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Summary
Here they are. Four wins under their belt, and an updated itinerary in their email—they’re heading for Miami tomorrow.
He drags blunt nails over the rough plastic, lets the little small black beads embed themselves under his fingernails, watches as they fly in every direction from his intervening fingers. And as he does it, he thanks God, sends all the love in him to his saviour and prays.
Wonders if maybe God won’t help him forget the fact that he’d wanted to kiss Oscar Bobb in front of eighty two thousand people.
