Katrina
“I thought you might like a nicer dinner,” he responded.
“Not what I'm doing at dinner,” I told him, plastering on a smile. “Can you please tell me what I am doing here?” I motioned around the room.
"At dinner?" he asked slowly.
“No," I huffed. "At your pack." His confused look only fueled my annoyance. "What is to become of me?”
He leaned back, sitting there for a few moments before standing abruptly and walking toward me. His hands gripped the back of a chair, and it looked like he might say something. Instead, he pulled it out and sat.
I scooted to face him, trying to muster courage even though I only felt dread.
He searched my face. “Tell me what you mean. I find it hard to… Tell me what you mean.”
“I just—” My hands fell in my lap.
He stiffened but reached for them, t
