There must have been a first moment, a first time he’d laid eyes on Alice Martin in all her indifferent, teenaged glory, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember it. Instead, it seemed to him that she had just always been there—hovering on the periphery of his life with her guitar and her rumpled notebooks—until one day, the light changed, and suddenly she was all he could see.
That day, he remembered.
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