fiona
"fiona?" everett squeezes her hand, and she can read the genuine concern and worry on his face. "what's wrong? are you okay?"
"it's nothing," she says, but her smile fails her with a choked sob.
"if it's nothing, why are you crying?"
shit. her cheeks are wet, and she can tell that her mascara has smeared a little underneath her eyes. "i'm not... i'm not feeling well. i should go home. have fun without me."
"fiona, please—"
she slips away from his grasp and sprints back to the apartment.
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YOU ARE READING
the recovery project [2]
Short Storyit does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop.