Reagan & Luke | Friday Evening | Quarantine
Perhaps it wasn't as strange or unusual as it felt, but she was finding it much easier to talk with him when he wasn't looking at her. If her brain wasn't so fogged by illness, it might have occurred to her that this very thing was what had enabled her to correspond with him so freely via their letter exchange all of those years ago. The absence of his eyes, of the way he looked at her. But as it was, she accredited it instead to the fact that he was too weakened to actively annoy her like this.
Yes. That had to be it.
"I didn't," she whispered, and even though he wasn't looking at her, she was still staring at him. "It was... better that way." She winced and clutched her gut as it was seized by another wave of cramping queasiness, as though the harsh truth was twisting inside of her like a shard of glass.