Page 35 of Aftermath
“Want some?” she asked, finally turning toward me.
I could see in her eyes something was bothering her. It was easy to spot the quiet heaviness within them. I could place the signs but not the cause.
Maybe I was the cause.
I barely knew her, so why did everything in me hurt to see that darkness?
“I already-” I started, but I stopped myself. “Yes, thank you.”
I couldn’t deny her this small thing. Before I could say anything else, I returned to the dining room and found an outlet for the printer. Its little screen lit up, and I let out a sigh of relief that it was functional.
Lenore came back into the room and set the mug down on the table for me.
“Thanks,” I said.
She opened her laptop and pulled up the files she’d shown me earlier in the week.“All of them?” she asked curtly.
“Yes,” I confirmed.
The process was more torturous than I expected, and guilt increasingly built inside me as we spent over an hour watching each of the documents print slowly. It took minutes just for a single page to make it through the printer.
Len sat opposite of me at the table, closest to the wall, but her back was turned to me. For the entire hour, she’d just stared at the documents on the wall.
“Are you hungry?” I asked while the printer chugged along.
She shrugged, not saying a word.
I stood and moved to the kitchen, searching for the snacks I’d prepared. I had an entire spread of fruits and vegetables with dips, waiting to be consumed. The moment I opened the fridge to grab them, I realized I was hungrier than I’d thought. The fruit looked refreshing, a mix of berries and grapes. I carried the snacks into the dining room.
“My favorite,” Len said with a weak smile.
“Hm,” I murmured, glancing up from the tray I set down.
“Strawberries,” she said. “They are my favorite.”
“Mine too,” I said, feeling self-conscious.
“My mother used to buy them as a treat every summer for us,” I told her.
“A treat? It’s a fruit,” she pointed out.
I let out a soft laugh. “Even my knowledge has its limits, and at five years old, I didn’t know the difference between strawberries and a true dessert.”
I saw her lip pull up ever so slightly. Progress.
“Did you grow up near Quantico?” she asked, and I found her full attention on me.
“California,” I answered.
“Do you miss it?” she asked.
“Sometimes, but I’m happy with where I ended up.” I shrugged. “Have you always lived in Briarport?”
I knew the answer was no, but I didn’t mention that.I felt like a stalker. Light stalking for a good reason wasn’t exactly stalking, was it?
I couldn’t even begin to reason with or defend that thought. Instead, I brushed it from my mind. I’d taken all necessary precautions before coming, and I couldn’t take those back.
“No,” she answered. “I used to live closer to my parents until three years ago. My brother lived here already, so I thought I’d give it a try.”
