man standing in front of her.
Finally she sat down.
Hard.
“I don’t believe this.”
“Believe it.”
She shook her head repeatedly.
“You look completely different.”
“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
