They stayed there.
A second.
Then two.
I looked up.
She looked down.
Neither of us smiled.
Neither of us pretended anymore.
Later, we sat in the living room with tea.
Michelle stared into her cup for a long time before speaking.
“I should apologize.”
I already knew.
“For this morning?”
She nodded.
“I should have knocked.”
“It’s your house.”
Her gaze lifted.
“But it’s your room.”
Silence.
Then she leaned back against the couch.
“You’ve changed,” she said.
I swallowed.
“So have you.”
Something flickered in her expression.
“Have I?”
“I think so.”
She watched me carefully.
For the first time since I arrived, I felt certain that we were standing on the edge of something neither of us understood.
Something that could disappear if either of us laughed.
Something that could become dangerous if neither of us did.
Michelle lowered her eyes.
“You’re not a kid anymore.”
