thirty-eight

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Matti Williams

Friday.

It was my last weekday practice in college—ever. It was a surreal feeling.

Wednesday morning, the turf had been dry enough that we had practice right after the huge rainstorm. I left Naomi back at the house in my bed and after practice I stopped at Starbucks and got us drinks.

I was now a professional at ordering her drink.

Triple shot of espresso over ice in a venti glass with two pumps of vanilla and sweet cream cold foam on the top.

She woke up and refused to kiss me until her teeth were brushed and then refused to kiss me after drinking her coffee because of her coffee breath. She made no sense.

Wednesday night, I watched as she finished her art midterm and then she studied her ass off. I don't know how she does it. She went on for three hours staring at this 800 page anatomy book before she got to page 566. She read that page for ten minutes before sobbing, exclaiming how much of a failure she was going to be.

I watched absolutely mortified; how could someone be that invested in a damn school book?

At that point I just removed her books from my bed and tucked her ass in for the night.

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