After the funeral was over, Adrian and Clare returned to the professor’s old home, now their new home. Adrian was kind to her, allowing her to stay in the only home she knew. He held the door open for her and she thanked him as she went inside. They sat, side-by-side, on the couch as people once again came up to them and expressed their deepest condolences. They brought lots of food: casseroles, Adrian said, and pies and salads and lasagnas. Clare worried that they’d expect her to eat all of it in front of them, but the people simply dropped off the food and left with an expression of sorrow.
Adrian was taking the professor’s death harder than Clare was. At least, he was showing it. He cried often. She could hear him through the thin walls when he thought she was asleep. Clare wished she could cry. The professor was good to her, and he knew her secret. She was his secret. Clare missed the professor terribly, but it was hard to cry without tear ducts. She'd learned that on Fridays. Leave a Reply. |
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