He never spoke. They thought he couldn't, but I knew he was waiting for the right time.
He never tried to communicate with anyone. They thought he didn't want to, but I knew he didn't have anyone to talk to.
They thought he was just sick, bu...
Mum is acting strange. Whenever I ask her questions or try to talk to her, I have to ask twice. She isn't paying attention, she's always distracted. It's a lot harder to open up to her when she's always busy and never there to hear what I have to say. She has never acted like this and I'm more than worried.
I walk into the kitchen where Mum is seated on one of the bar stools by the counter. Her chin is rested on her palms and she appears to be deep in thought. I turn on the tap and fill up the glass in my hand, before turning it off when it reaches the top. Slowly, I press the glass to my lips and drink it until it's empty. I leave the glass in the dishwasher once I'm finished. My eye catches a glimpse of the clock on the wall. I should go to work soon.
"Mum." I said, trying to get her attention.
No response.
"Mum!" I yelled.
She suddenly gasped and looked up. "Yes, dear?"
I paused. Dear? She calls me love, not dear.
"I'm going to work." I tell her cautiously.
She nods. "Alright."
In confusion and worry, I leave the room.
______________________________
"Hey." I smile at Peter as I enter the room.
He looks up and grins at me.
"Did you miss me?"
He nods.
"Well I'm glad. So, how have things been?"
He pulls out a folded piece of paper from behind the hospital pillow resting under his back and hands it to me. I unfold it.
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A single tear falls from my eyes as I meet his gaze. I haven't seen his eyes in so long, yet I seem to remember them having a light shade of blue. Now they just seem...darker.
I stood up, leaned over the hospital bed and wrapped my arms around his. Peter was so important to me, and I knew I had strong feelings for him. But I needed to know if they were feelings of pity,
