“So do you.”
She laughed.
Then immediately started crying.
Not dramatic tears.
The kind that come when life has exhausted every reserve you have.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“For what?”
She wiped her eyes.
“For letting you see me like this.”
The answer broke my heart.
Because it sounded exactly like something I would have said twenty years earlier.
Back when grief had convinced me I wasn’t worth seeing.
I sat across from her.
“Charlotte.”
She looked up.
“Do you know what I remember most about prom?”
