[All prospects of shoulder massages now forgotten, Nate's looking at her with an expression that's mainly stunned disbelief, with a hint of betrayal. No, that's stupid, it's Elena, she would never do anything to hurt him.
But here the journal is, on her bed. Open, like she'd been in the middle of reading it. He glances back at it once more, to be sure, but there's no doubt. That is his mother's handwriting, those are her words. He points at it without looking, searching her face now.]
Why do you have that?
[His voice sounds like it's coming from somewhere far away. Or maybe that's just him, because he feels like this isn't real. Or shouldn't be.]
no subject
But here the journal is, on her bed. Open, like she'd been in the middle of reading it. He glances back at it once more, to be sure, but there's no doubt. That is his mother's handwriting, those are her words. He points at it without looking, searching her face now.]
Why do you have that?
[His voice sounds like it's coming from somewhere far away. Or maybe that's just him, because he feels like this isn't real. Or shouldn't be.]