MADELINE'S POV
--
I've been tip-toeing around him, not because of anything he's done-- but because what I have done. I feel asleep while he was talking, and even though I don't even have a vague memory of what he had said, I just have a feeling in my gut that it was important-- that I needed to hear it. I'm swimming in guilt, but there's no shore to rest, and I'm growing rather tired. I woke up to find him gone, to find him here, on this roof, shirtless and sweat coating his skin just after breakfast already, and I just knew that he didn't sleep.
He hasn't looked at me once since I stalked in here half an hour ago.
I remain sitting against the tree, the sky a bright blue, the sun still slowly rising to toward the peak of the day, but I haven't moved. I haven't made a single spark of
