Suffocating

Insomnia; V

Roxanne, sitting in the square dining table, looked down at the sandwich Grover had... not-so-graciously made. There were loads of meat here, which was good. Roxanne liked meat - though not as much as she liked sweets. She didn't know why. She didn't have an appetite, despite not having eaten all day yesterday.

Food just... seemed so tiring, lately.

Grover, in front of her, watched with crossed arms and an empty plate - well, it would've been empty if not for the bits of crumbs spread across the circular surface.

Roxanne knew she needed to say something. She owed him this much, for everything he'd done.

"It's more than just her," she started. "Claire, I mean... Yeah, sure, I'm mad at her, but I know that... I know that things are just gonna go back to normal again."

"Will it?" Grover questioned, leaning forward, pressing his elbows to the table, resting his square chin on the back of his joined palms. "Will you really forgive her, Roxanne?"

Forgiveness. It wasn't something she was good at. If someone did something bad to her, she'd try to keep her distance from that person, rendering them and stripping their position into a stranger, and forget all about them.

But this was... Claire.

Roxanne couldn't ever forget Claire.

Could she forgive her, though? After what she did.

Roxanne didn't want to think about that. Not yet. She squirmed in her seat. Grover, always the observant old man, noticed.

"I am your boss. I command you tell me what's bothering you."

"... Angel."

His eyes widened, and the wrinkles in his forehead moved up an inch or two. "Ah... I see..."

Roxanne sighed, and slumped into her seat, her eyes looking up as her glasses sagged down. The blurry ceiling wasn't interesting to look at, but she couldn't brave herself to look at anything else.

"I just feel like, like there's this connection between us, you know. Like we're soulmates, or something. I thought she really... I thought she cared about me..."

Roxanne ran her limp fingers through her hair. It didn't straighten her hair. It only made her bed hair messier. She must looked horrible.

Grover wouldn't care, though. Not when he himself looked equally as horrible as her, having just woken up.

Roxanne closed her eyes, drummed her fingers at the table, and jolted her head down to look at Grover, desperate. She didn't bother re-adjusting her slanted glasses. It was smudged from all the times she'd tried to wipe the tears away, anyway. Putting it on wouldn't make a difference towards Roxanne's sight.

She looked at the blurred Grover, and oddly, the lack of details in his face compelled her to say, "Do you... I know what I wrote, I know what I believe, at least, I think I do... but... is she really the good guy?"

There were no ticking cats, this time. Not like in his office. There were, however, the faint sound of the water sprinkler activating, doing its job to water the grasses, not to mention the loud rustling of the large, grand trees here, and the occasional calm, slow roaring engine of the cars.

The suburbs was really peaceful.

Roxanne would like to live here, one day.

Claire would've loved it here.

"Beti... You need to stop being such a bewakoof."

Roxanne blinked, and stopped her finger-drumming.