Page 62 of Juliet's Echo

Yeah, Echo. I get it, man.

Because I'd knock a nigga clean into next week whenever I felt like it to keep this one safe.

“You could just come down to one of my free ASL classes on Saturday mornings,” she answered, this time using both sign language and verbal communication.

“Me? Up on a Saturday morning? Ha!”

Juliet laughed and shook her head.

“Anyways, like I was saying. Laptop aside, Alonse looked spooked when he saw me.”

I took a bite of my sandwich before responding.

“He has agoraphobia. He’s like... scared of trees and shadows.”

Juliet paused mid-chew.

“Trees and shadows?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s not what agoraphobia is.”

“Aight, then outside and whatever comes with it.”

She laughed so hard she nearly choked on her juice.

“Psalm!”

“What?”

“You cannot just make up medical definitions.”

“I ain't make it up. That’s what it looks like from where I’m sitting.”

She pointed her sandwich at me.

“You’re impossible.”

“Yet, here you are.”

Her expression immediately softened.

At first, I thought she was being bashful over my flirting, but then her eyes filled with something else.

Compassion.

And dare I say, sorrow.

She looked down at her food, and before I could ask what was wrong, she spoke.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have come.”

“What? Why?” I stumbled over my words.

“If I knew you had a family member with a disability that can be triggered by social interaction, I would've suggested we meet somewhere else. We could've gone to Flip’d, the library, or even my house. If there’s anything I understand, it’s neurological differences and the boundaries that come along with them.”

Okay. Let's cancel out self-centered.