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I closed my eyes, pushing my knees up beneath my chin, and crammed myself deeper into the back of my closet.
Everything is a mess. Two weeks before our project is due and I've got nothing to show for it. All holiday, I've been following Billie around aimlessly, not thinking. Now, I have to think. I need to do something.
                               Hands.
Delicate hands cup my face and hold me close to a familiar chest. "You're okay," Grace says. She's warm and cold at the same time. I can tell that she has been in the rain. Her damp fingers comb through my hair and she's humming the melody of a song that sounds vaguely familiar to me. 
"We'll make a new film," she says. But, she's quiet like she's not really sure of herself. "I mean if you want to."
I can't see past her strawberry, strawberry hair. She smells like strawberries, too. The kind that you're not allowed to eat until they've gone ruby red, just ripened.
"Okay."

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