fifteenI come farther into his living room and stand awkwardly for a moment until I decide to sit down on the couch, perched on the edge of the cushion, in case he doesn’t want me to stay for very long.
He’s just staring at me now. For a moment, I thought I saw something like relief and awe on his face, but now it’s blank, so I’m not sure if the expression I’m hoping for was really there or not.
It could be my imagination. Wishful thinking. It’s been known to happen before.
“How are you feeling?” I ask at last, since someone needs to say something.
“Okay.”
“You still don’t look up to full strength.” He doesn’t. He looks a little pale, although better than he was yesterday, and there’s a shakiness about him that I’m just not used to seeing.
It scares me. Makes me think of watching him
