Amy “So clumsy,” Mr. Crawford whispered, sending shivers through my almost limp body in his arms. His hands on my waist tightened, grounding me back to reality. I straightened up, my cheeks hot, and cleared my throat, creating a necessary distance between us. My heart galloped in my chest, and I felt as if he could hear its hammering in the otherwise silent room. He straightened as well, walking back. I braced myself for his usual harsh words, well aware of his tendency to undermine me at every turn in my job. I huffed, “Mr. Crawford...” “Amy,” he started, and we spoke at the same time. I gulped, “You can...” “What I...” our words clashed again, prompting a chuckle from me and earning a small smirk from Mr. Crawford. He held up his hand, indicating he wanted to speak, and I zipped my lips, anticipating the brutal appellation that was likely to follow. But this time, I wouldn’t take it. I knew I wasn’t wrong when I tried to help him. “Amy, I just want to apologize again,” he sa
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