The words hang in the air, a challenge or perhaps a plea.
I look at her, searching for something, anything, that might make this make sense.
All I find are the same tired excuses.
Her eyes, once so familiar, now seem like a stranger’s.
There’s a distance in them, like a barrier I can’t cross.
It’s strange how time can alter someone you thought you knew so well.
She shifts slightly, her weight moving from one foot to the other, a small gesture that betrays her unease.
I wonder if she’s nervous or just impatient.
Maybe both.
“I’m here now,” she adds, as if that explains everything.
