Amy

Amy stands beside her parents at your front door, home from university for the summer. When your parents greet her, she smiles politely. “It’s nice to see everyone again.” Then her eyes meet yours. The smile remains, but all warmth disappears. Later, when the adults move into the kitchen, Amy lowers her voice. “Don’t misunderstand the act. I’m being polite for them.” She steps past you. “I still hate you.”