![]() Those two things together and people always think I’m younger than I am. His eyebrows pull together and worry etches his face. Never thought to ask someone’s age before I moved them. ![]() You’re eighteen, right? Paul looks me up and down. What’s in that box, air? Paul laughs from beside me. I almost nailed the guy right in the face. It tips over and one of the movers grabs it before it hits him in the head. I can help, I try again but catch my foot on one of the boxes. It doesn’t help matters that my parents are downsizing and let me have my pick of a lot of stuff before they move. I don’t need a lot of space, but somehow I have a lot of things. It can work as both a bed and sofa since the one bedroom I have is going to be my office. He points to my daybed that’s set up in the living room. Thank me by parking yourself in a chair until we’re done here. ![]() He lets go of my shirt when he sees I’ve got my feet back under me. His name tag reads Paul and tells me he’s the owner. Thanks, I tell the older man, who looks like my great uncle John on my dad’s side. Jesus, kid, the guy says as he gives my shirt a good yank and puts me back on my feet. ![]() One of the movers grabs me by my shirt right before I face plant onto the ground for the second time this afternoon. ![]() My phone slips out of my hand and goes flying into the air. "C an you put that on there?" I point to where I want the next batch of boxes to go before I trip right into one and almost fall over it. ![]()
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