She wears that look again. That frosted focus makes her look as if she were looking through me. As if she were somewhere else, looking for something that did not exist. As if something i had said had taken her away from me again. Her body’s tense and unresponsive, cold and unaware of the fact that she’s gone. She’s in a place where no one thinks of, a place that we don’t know of.
Page?” I stroked her hair, as my mother did when I was younger as if to show that I was being nurtured. She showed nothing, no movement, no understanding, nothing, nothing to grasp to. And its my fault. Its my fault. Its my fault. I had said something. Sosomething shouldn’t have said. Fault, guilt and anger, all at once, fell from my eyes. I could not fathom the thought of this process all over again. I could not imagine what it must be like to be trapped inside myself. Page was gone and lost, and far from reality.