![]() "I'm leaving first thing in the morning," she says gently. She reaches over, resting a hand on the back of his neck, where his reddish hair is newly trimmed, cut close in a way that makes him look older somehow. "Canada, huh?" Clare says, raising her eyebrows. ![]() "Maybe we should just take off or something," Aidan says, looking at her sideways. During the short walk over to the Gallaghers' house-a walk she's made about a thousand times in the past two years-she folded and refolded the page so many times that it's already soft and wrinkled. ![]() Tonight is an ending.Īidan's hand is still hovering over the keys, and Clare glances down at the piece of notebook paper on her lap. Their nights always seem to begin in this way: the two of them sitting in Aidan's dusty Volvo, trying to decide what to do. In the car, Aidan pauses before turning the key in the ignition, and for a brief second, Clare lets herself imagine that they're on their way out to dinner or a movie, or anywhere, really, even just the kind of aimless, purposeless drive that's been the only thing on the agenda so many times before. ![]()
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