It doesn't strike me until then that I could be anywhere. I nervously turn toward the door when he clears his throat. "Here," Naz says, picking up my license from a table and holding it out, as if he'd read my mind. I spot my shoes in the living room and slip them on. My eyes scan the rooms as I trudge through them. The two-story house is large and mostly vacant, fully furnished but scarcely decorated. With a sigh, I look away, having no choice but to follow Naz downstairs. Looking down at my phone, I try to turn it on but it's dead, the screen staying black. He walks away, and I watch as he disappears through the hall and down a set of stairs. I stand still as he steps past, his arm brushing against mine, the familiar cologne wafting around me, clinging to him just as it clings to his bed. I can barely afford to pay the damn bill. I hope like hell it still works because I can't afford to replace it. I look at him incredulously, clutching my phone, running my thumb along the jagged scratch down the screen. "You stepped into the doorway and said 'my phone'."
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