Melanie

The house is quiet when I wake up the next morning. Weston and I barely talked after we got back from the pharmacy, and he had no questions about what I picked up. Not that I really wanted to discuss it anyway, but him not even asking kind of hurts worse. I want him to be worried about me, to wonder why I needed to go to a pharmacy. In my own way, I was hoping it would open up an avenue of communication. 

"Oh, Melanie," I sigh to myself, "what the fuck ...