NATALIA
The scent of eggs, meat, and toast lingered faintly in the air when I locked the front door behind me. I left a plate for Tristan on the counter, still warm, with a note beside it that simply read: Eat something. Nothing more. I couldn’t bring myself to write anything else. Not the sweet notes. I was a little embarrassed to leave him, but I still do whenever I must go ahead of him.
He was still asleep when I got up. I’m not sure if he’s really asleep or just pretending to be to avoid any conversation, but I appreciated it because I don’t know what to say to him anyway.
It was almost ironic. We went home, lay in the same bed, under the same covers, and still felt miles apart. We hadn’t spoken a single word since we came home together. I didn’t even want to be in the same car and
