“Paige, oh my God, are you okay?” asks a frantic Tabitha, putting her hand on my shoulder as I am crouched low, my hands splayed out on my knees.
Holy s**t, what was that about?
That’s the first time in days that a vivid memory has hit me to near debilitation.
“I’m fine, Tabitha, sorry,” I mumble, rising to my full height after I’ve nearly folded my body in half.
The look in her eyes scares me. She actually cares. She actually cares if I’m okay.
“I’m just claustrophobic,” I reply when she gawks at me, waiting for an explanation.
That’s a total lie, as I was once locked in a broom closet for two hours, hiding from the police. But I can’t tell her that, can I?
Her face drops, and she covers her hand over her gaping mouth.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay. I’m fine now,” I s
