By evening, my head is a mess.
This is not surprising, given the amount of effort I have put into exhausting every other part of me first.
The exchange between Grey and me after midnight keeps replaying whether I allow it or not. The pull I had felt towards the person hurrying to find me. The certainty I had felt at knowing a soul perfectly crafted for my own had existed in someone I could have passed by in corridors. The way the world narrowed to one impossible point as that soul came closer and closer, as if everything in me had been waiting to recognise her.
Her face, though. The expression she had held.
That is the part I cannot shake.
Not the rejection itself, or even the pain, though that had been dizzying enough in itself.
But her face.
One moment, Grey looked like her life w
