My stomach lurched as my finger pressed to it, slowly, bringing it to an end, head raising, four pairs of brown eyes on me, one particularly gold, particularly brilliant.He was looking at me carefully, sadly, probably taking that one motion into much further analysis than necessary, like myself. The iPod grew cold in my palm, at the same time a burning reminder of it all. Of everything. Of the boy in front of me, the one I loved, and of us. I wondered quietly though, if maybe we were like the song, like what I had just done. Maybe we hadn't been stopped. Just paused.
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