andhiswife | (Reply)

Greta drops her hands, but remains hunched forward over the table, her weight on her elbows. "No, not--not everything. Not my childhood or anything like that." It's a small detail, barely relevant, which makes it easier to focus on. She could tell Jessica the precise moment when her story began, from Jesse's perspective, but it doesn't matter.

"But he knew how it ends," she says, her voice thick and her throat aching. Her eyes fill, a far too familiar sensation, blurring Jessica's apartment into a meaningless smear. "I don't... make it." She buries her face in her hands again. "I asked," she says again, the words falling out of her in a miserable rush, "because I had--I had to know if everyone was all right, and they are, they are, but I'm..." she scoffs, or tries to, but there's really no disguising the fact that it's more of a sob.

It's so stupid, is the thing. God. She can't believe she just... fell. It's not as horribly undignified as what Jesse thought had happened to her, but it comes close enough.