Sometimes, she does such a silly teenage girl thing: calls him when he's not around, just to hear his voice on the machine - it's as if even when she's by herself, she's never alone.
She is rash when she's alone, and some of the things she tries are beyond her; it's a good thing nobody is around to see her make a fool of herself trying, or afterward, when her throat is hoarse and she can't stop shaking.
They all have a copy, or they did - their three idiotically-grinning faces staring up from three identical rectangles of glossy paper - but hers is getting worn at the edges and smudgy from being slid in and out of the frame and traced over by fingertips so much.
She tells herself this is the last time she tries to fill in alone as she walks home, blood trickling down her leg and sticking to the run in her tights.
She keeps thinking about the lightning rush of all that power, those forces, channeling through her; she can't decide yet if it was frightening, thrilling, or some strange combination of the two.
a) Tell you why I friended you. b) Associate you with something - a song, a color, a photo, etc. c) Tell you something I like about you. d) Tell you a memory I have of you. e) Ask something I've always wanted to know about you. f) Tell you my favorite user pic of yours. g) in return, you must post this on your own lj.