Thirteen

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"This is bullshit," Toby says calmly, his voice fractious.
"It's not bullshit," Emma replies, her fingernails digging into her arm as she tries not to look at him. "I wish you would at least try and understand-"
"Try and understand!" he bellows, his face falling into a sneer.
"Toby," she tries, but he takes a step closer, silencing her.
"Don't 'Toby' me," he says coldly, his eyes hard.
"I don't know what you want me to say," she says after a long moment.
He crosses his arms, restlessly trying to figure out what to do with himself. His anger and frustration quickly evaporates into a thick feeling of panic.
"Why?" He asks, his arms falling back to his sides. "Why are you doing this?"
She watches him for a moment, letting out a breath.
"Doing what, Toby? What I want? What will be good for me?"
"No," he shakes his head. "Why are you ridding me of your future?" She looks away. "We've had plans for so long."
"Our plans have changed, Toby," Emma says, her hands wanting so badly to reach out to him. "Can't you see that?"
"Your plans have changed. I just want to... I just need to know why you don't want me in them anymore."

She sighs, holding onto herself, not sure how to respond. Her conversation with Grace floods back. She wraps her cardigan tighter around her thin waist and looks hard at Toby's face, possibly for the last time.

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