Much later that night (last night), she returned to me. Her brown hair was matted and stuck to her face, her skin was pale, her eyes bloodshot from crying.
I, of course, thought she looked as ravishingly beautiful as ever...though I felt sad that the love of my life had so clearly been suffering. I wished more than anything that I could comfort her with my sweet chocolate cake and deluxe creamy filling.
But I knew I needed to take it slow.
"Hello, Lynda," I said softly.
She did not answer. Shuffling to the refrigerator, she opened the door and pulled out a bottle of water. She looked utterly exhausted and defeated as she slouched into a chair at the kitchen table, letting the refrigerator door stand open behind her.
"Listen," I said after a moment. "About earlier. I’m sorry if y
