She was always the one. I can remember her naked and laughing in her bedroom on one afternoon we had off work together. The way she stepped out of bed and strolled across the sun-bright floor to change the record.
She knelt down in front of the record-player and began to sort through the pile of records. She seemed so natural, so at ease in her nudity.
She had said earlier that she often took off all her clothes once she got back into her room from work. She said that her clothes felt contaminated, unclean and dirty from the way everyone stared at her. She knew they all hated her, and hated me too now for being on her side.
We were made into outsiders, alone together against the rest. So, our being in her room together had become inevitable.
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