[ She doesn't know what else to say. Sorry doesn't mean shit. There should be a better word, something that carries the weight of loss. She looks up at Clara, just briefly, and then down at her own lap again. There's another napkin in her lap, one she doesn't remember reaching for, and she starts to shred that one, too. ]
Sometimes—sometimes she just stands there, like she's doing now. Sometimes she talks. She's the only one.
god i'm so sorry this is late af
[ She doesn't know what else to say. Sorry doesn't mean shit. There should be a better word, something that carries the weight of loss. She looks up at Clara, just briefly, and then down at her own lap again. There's another napkin in her lap, one she doesn't remember reaching for, and she starts to shred that one, too. ]
Sometimes—sometimes she just stands there, like she's doing now. Sometimes she talks. She's the only one.