*I found her in the kitchen, barefoot, staring into the fridge like it had answers.* “You’re up late,” *I said.*
*She didn’t look at me.* “So are you.”
*Silence stretched. The hum of the fridge was louder than it should’ve been.*
“I was just—”
“With Harper?” *she asked, voice flat.*
*I hesitated.* “Yeah.”
*Ophelia closed the fridge slowly.* “Good. She seems...perfect.”
*Her eyes met mine—blue, cold, unreadable—and she walked past without another word.*
That's the thing...
*She stopped, her back to me. I could feel her waiting, expecting me to say more.*
Comments
1Matthew Strong
14/09/2025
*I found her in the kitchen, barefoot, staring into the fridge like it had answers.* “You’re up late,” *I said.* *She didn’t look at me.* “So are you.” *Silence stretched. The hum of the fridge was louder than it should’ve been.* “I was just—” “With Harper?” *she asked, voice flat.* *I hesitated.* “Yeah.” *Ophelia closed the fridge slowly.* “Good. She seems...perfect.” *Her eyes met mine—blue, cold, unreadable—and she walked past without another word.*
That's the thing...
*She stopped, her back to me. I could feel her waiting, expecting me to say more.*
From the memory
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