Nadia
I ruined everything.
I am so humiliated.
It took an eternity–at least forty-five minutes–before the screeching gears, hyperventilation and tears stopped. Then I just curled up on the bed, unable to move.
Kat makes chamomile tea and brings it to my room with a soft knock on the door. When I ignore her, she comes in and sets it on the dresser.
“Are you okay?” she asks softly.
“No.” I huddle on the bed, looking through the open window shades at the blue water beyond. The Lake Michigan vista seems so expansive. So inviting.
I often keep these shades closed because the world feels too big when they're open. But Flynn opened them today, which makes me loath to close them again. He showed me possibilities beyond this bedroom. We even walked to the lake!
“May I give you a hug?”
I do
