She’s not okay.
I mean, I knew that. I knew it when I saw her and I couldn’t do anything about it. The sunken eyes. God, when was the last time she slept? She looked up at me when I came in and tried to smile but couldn’t quite manage it. As if she no longer had enough strength to even lift one corner of her mouth. She looked back down at the book she was reading but I swear in the forty minutes I was in that room with her she never turned a page. She just kept staring down the words, blankly, not seeing a thing but a world that was far, far away. Beneath the table her foot shook uncontrollably. Her heel tapped the ground incessantly, almost angrily.
When I finally got up to leave I wanted to do something. I knew she wasn’t okay. She hadn’t been okay for awhile and I wasn’t going to make it better. I could have but I didn’t. I got up and walked out the door. I was afraid.
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