Six

I followed behind Arabella, watching as she aimlessly tossed clothes into the cart. She wasn’t even paying attention to what she was grabbing; half the things she picked up weren’t her size.

The way her fingers fumbled over the fabric, how she moved in jerky, uncertain motions, it was obvious she wasn’t here, not really.

Her steps were uneven, her breath just a little too quick. She was nervous. Her mind was elsewhere. Clearly, something was bothering her, and I didn’t know what it was.

We turned down another aisle, and something caught my eye. A smirk played at my lips as I reached for a small box. I...