Evelyn
I’m sobbing on the bathroom floor when Alexander enters our bedroom. I hear the door squeak open then click quietly shut. I don’t try to quiet my crying.
Alexander appears in the doorway to the bathroom. He slowly approaches, sitting across from me on the floor.
“I did it again, didn’t I?” he asks quietly.
I look up, blinking through my tears to try to see him more clearly. He looks sad. And remorseful.
“I thought I was considering what you want, like you said,” he tries to explain. “But I really just projected. Came up with what I thought was a great idea instead of asking you and trying to get to know you better.”
My sobbing slows down, not because I’m done crying as much as because I want to hear him more easily.
“I can bring down some of the food if you want,” he offers.
