Frida
“Are you okay?” Stanley asks me.
Am I okay? I am not sure anymore. I just watched a man die, but I feel nothing but contempt for him. If anything, I feel at peace.
“Are you?” I ask Stanley, whose face is grimmer than usual.
“I haven’t done this in years because I wanted to leave my past behind, so I am a bit shaken up,” he admits.
“Do you regret doing it?” I ask.
Stanley shakes his head. “No. I don’t. I did it for Molly.”
I smile and wrap my arms around him.
“Let’s go home. I will stay with you tonight,” I tell him.
He nods, his eyes still dark.
As soon as we get in the car, I feel my body relax somewhat. All the emotions that had been coursing through me start to dissipate, and I can finally breathe again. Stanley starts driving, and we make our way back to his apartment.
