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She paints freckles on her face. I sit awkwardly in the dry bathtub with my legs hanging over the side. She’s staring intensely at the mirror. Why do you do that? It’s fun. I don’t think it looks good. I’m not doing it for you. I know you’re not doing for me? Then why do you care? I don’t want you to feel like it’s necessary. I just said I think it’s fun. Okay.