aviva

She comes at me, teeth bared in a wide smile, white and gleaming, eyes sparkling and lips always flushed, and I shrink a little inside. She’s going to stand too close, the smile will widen a little too far, and I’ll find myself wondering how to break eye contact, how to move backwards slightly without just fleeing in abject terror.

She is a client, after all – it isn’t as if I can just scream and run.

I want to, though. I really do.

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