[It's all if the light-hearted atmosphere of the party has vanished, summer turning to winter. The somber quality to his tone, the hint of darkness flickering across her face makes her regret asking at all. What kind of girl was she, she wonders, if she could make him wear such a morbid, weary expression? What history must they have shared? But, after seeing him turn brooding and serious for the first time tonight, she does not dare ask for details.]
I shouldn't have asked.
[she murmurs, ashamed in her own way of having brought tender memories to the surface. She draws deeply from her new cigarette, tobacco crumbling away into gray ashes, at a loss for how to respond to something as private as he has just confessed.]
I'm sorry, if I upset you terribly.
[It doesn't feel nearly as powerful as it should. All the fumbling, fragile apologies in the world wouldn't be able to heal what-ever manner of wounds that are still causing him to suffer. Wild possibilities spring forth: a sick mistress, or a first wife, or something of that sort. Faceless women, about whom she has no business imagining what history he might have had with them. It's not her affair to pry into.]
no subject
I shouldn't have asked.
[she murmurs, ashamed in her own way of having brought tender memories to the surface. She draws deeply from her new cigarette, tobacco crumbling away into gray ashes, at a loss for how to respond to something as private as he has just confessed.]
I'm sorry, if I upset you terribly.
[It doesn't feel nearly as powerful as it should. All the fumbling, fragile apologies in the world wouldn't be able to heal what-ever manner of wounds that are still causing him to suffer. Wild possibilities spring forth: a sick mistress, or a first wife, or something of that sort. Faceless women, about whom she has no business imagining what history he might have had with them. It's not her affair to pry into.]