“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?”
She smiled sadly.
“The dancing?”
“No.”
“The music?”
I shook my head.
