Lana and I ended up meeting at a small restaurant instead since she was hungry. And I hadn't exactly cooked anything back at home.
It seems she only gets worse each time I see her.
Her skin is sickly pale, and there are bags underneath her droopy eyes. The tiredness is evident in them, and even though she tries to smooth it out with a smile, she fails horribly. Her pixie cut almost resembles a bird nest, and I watch her run her hands through them over and over again.
She reminds me of how I used to be during those months of recuperating from Brad's rejection, only I was a bit worse.
I stare down at the smoothie and plate of french fries that she had ordered and has only had one fry since. It's so sad seeing her this way. I wish there was something I could do to help. I want her to go
