
Elif Batuman Reads “The Repugnant Conclusion”
The New Yorker: The Writer's Voice - New Fiction from The New Yorker
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I Was Aided, I Was Helped
When he leaned in to kiss me, it was like sliding back into the water on one of those long days at the beach where you get out just so you can go back in again. Shahin's friend came out of the bathroom and seemed surprised that i wasn't there. I had never seen eyes color up close, grayish blue with hazel flecx. He slid his hand into my underwear again. Ah, jesus, his voice had some kind of regret in it, as if something was going to get him in trouble.
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