Evelyn
"Are you sure you're okay?" Clara asked, lifting a sandwich to my lips. "You seem different."
"Why?" I asked, my brow furrowing as I took a bite, “Did you spend a year moping around after your first heartbreak, crying for someone who clearly didn't care about you, or did you turn into a depressed woman starved for love?"
I could sense her surprise at my response. I couldn't blame her; my friends were all reacting the same way. They expected me to act like a heartbroken woman, crying and drowning in grief. Perhaps I should have, but for some reason, I couldn't. I didn’t know why but I also didn’t try to figure out any of it.
I felt strangely numb. Everything seemed oddly normal because I had, to some extent, shut down my emotions, shutting out everything that hurt.
"Well, not really, but you were acting completely different last night," she said, wiping the corner of my mouth with a handkerchief. "Are you sure you're okay, Evelyn? You don't have to pretend. I'm here for you."
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