“He won’t stop staring. “What?” I ask. “How much do you weigh?” “Wow. Is that how you talk to every girl you meet? That explains so much.” “I’m about one hundred seventy-five pounds,” he says. “Of muscle.” I stare at… — Tahereh Mafi Copy Share Image
“Why are you staring at me?” she’d ask. “‘Cause you’re pretty,” I’d reply. “You’re the first one who’s ever said that.” “I’m the only one who knows,” I’d tell her. “And believe me, I know.” — Haruki Murakami Copy Share Image
