Title: Invasion of Privacy
You know doors exist for a reason (…but hers has been closed awhile and it’s been killing you). It’s only ajar by centimeters now, but that’s enough (…only because it’s Joan).
You slip inside. “Hey.”
She looks desolate, bereft. And, for once, she’s too quiet.
“…So, I wrote you this letter, but then I tossed it. Uh, it was stupid, but anyway. I hope you feel better someday, or whatever.”
You’re afraid she’ll turn away, unready for friendship. (…That’s what you’d do.) But she smiles, eyes tear-glossed, and something soars, tossed from Joan’s hands to yours: a bright blue ball.