You see, I wasn't sure whether to be mad or not.
Mad that Finnian Romans had failed to tell me that he was sick.
Mad that he didn't tell me he wasn't okay.
Mad that he didn't tell me that his heart felt funny on Monday night.
But I couldn't.
I couldn't be mad at him.
Aunt Mindy had been very careful around me lately. Aunt Mindy wore colorful woven sweaters and chunky earrings, and was still trying to figure out her own life at 25 while raising her sister's teenage daughter. The thing about Aunt Mindy was that she could explain to you how nuclear fusion worked, but had no idea how to handle human emotions.
But she was trying.
Her: You're not okay, huh?
Me: Not really.
Her: I made you soup. I heard that it helps.
Me: I think you're thinking of the common cold.
She paused.
Her: I'm sorry I'm not very good at this.
She proceeded to peck my forehead with a kiss as I started eating the soup.
It was slightly watery and didn't taste like soup, but it was the first thing that made me feel warmth in a while.
YOU ARE READING
If I Found Finn (#Wattys2015)
Короткий рассказFiona Rothfield hates everything. - Or the one where she's trying to come to terms with losing her best friend and happiness isn't a feeling anymore. (a series of letters, dialogue, and mishappenings) short story #492 (3/14/15)
