montpahrnah:

The thing about Merrill is that her hands move without her, these pale, cut-up things fluttering about like bird wings, and sometimes she doesn’t even realize what she’s doing, whose hand she’s holding, what she’s touching until someone’s eyes are blinking back at her owlishly or something is lying in pretty glass pieces on the floor. Like right now. Like the way Bethany is looking at her, the corner of her lips twitching, and—oh, she’s got her fingers on her arm and that’s a little forward, isn’t it?

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