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Miss Murray is leaning on the door. “Ash, come on. It’s time to go.” Her hand is so tight on the handle, her knuckles are pale. She’s looking at the floor. “Miss Murray?””What?” She doesn’t move. I stare at her face but she doesn’t return the look. “I love you.”The air in the room has frozen, every atom suspended. Then her tense body slackens. Her hand loosens its grip on the door and she turns her head slowly towards me. She meets my gaze for a moment. Her eyes have dark rings under them. Her forehead is creased with worry. Her cheeks are pale. I want to make it all OK. I want to make her happy. I desperately want to touch her face. “I know,” she says quietly.
