I thought I should update you. Maybe after the last couple entries, you started getting worried about me. I guess... Well, I guess this is just to say I'm fine. Okay, you know? I mean, this is to explain, not to get pity or something. I've already got enough of that as is.
Lacy pities me. We weren't supposed to be roommates, but now that we are again, she tries to look out for me. I think it's pity though. I hide in our room for long stretches of time or stare at the ceiling, my head resting on my arms. Usually I don't even realize how long I've been there until my stomach grumbles or I need to go to the bathroom.
The light is the only other thing that tips me off. We've got this big bay window (one of the perks of living in Old FloCo rather than the newer apartments) that lets in huge swatches of light. In the morning, it's a dull grey until the sun begins to rise. Streaks of pink eat away at that, bringing the stark, clinical light of day. This is torn down by darkness creeping in, lapping away the brightness.
I've become an expert at studying the light. At watching the same patch of ceiling grow light and then dim again.
And again.
So Lacy pities me. If she's around to cook dinner, she usually leaves a plate on the cluttered coffee table next to me, all without a word.
I wish she didn't. It makes me feel worse when the food grows cold, and I can only eat half of it.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
YOU ARE READING
Minnesota Goodbyes
Teen FictionM., a college sophomore, is haunted by the events of a year ago that ended another girl's life. In an attempt to clear her conscience, she writes her confession down in a battered notebook addressed to a stranger. This search for redemption is far m...
