I'm so very clever.
Everyone's waiting for me to talk about things I won't talk about yet.
Like Jacob's reaction to running into Caleb here, when we didn't know he was here. Like Loch's damage control from a thousand miles away. Like Claus' master plan for me and Jacob's refusal to comply, and their attempts to one up each other with radical ideas. Like my dates circled on the calendar that spark fear instead of triumph, as if it never mattered how far I have come. Like how no one listens to the frail one anymore, they just wait, and then decide on their own.
Like being surrounded by people but I am behind glass. They're all there, I can see them.
I just can't reach them.
I can't hear them.
