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“You look sad," he says, which surprises me. "Well . . .more than you usually do." I tilt my head. "You notice if I'm sad?" Clearing his throat, he turns away, maybe embarrassed. I want to tell him he doesn't have to be, but I decide to leave it. As silence floats between us, I lie down and close my eyes to sleep. As I'm about to drift off, I hear him say, "If your sadness looks that beautiful, then I can't imagine what happiness looks like.” — Lydia Goodfellow
You look sad," he says, which surprises me. "Well . . .more than you usually do."
I tilt my head. "You notice if I'm sad?"
Clearing his throat, he turns away, maybe embarrassed. I want to tell him he doesn't have to be, but I decide to leave it. As silence floats between us, I lie down and close my eyes to sleep. As I'm about to drift off, I hear him say, "If your sadness looks that beautiful, then I can't imagine what happiness looks like.