She seats herself on the edge of his couch while he stumbles off to set the kettle. The absence of sound is broken by the clank of china being set on the coffee table. It is fifteen minutes into her arrival. Her red rimmed eyes are focused on the cup of chamomile tea in her lap. She sniffles. There are no words shared between them.
Kit drinks her tea in little sips and starts to sob again. Lucas sits across from her, back hunched, eyes strained on the chestnut floorboards squeaking beneath his feet. He listens carefully to the sound of ragged breaths, anticipating any indication that Kit will speak soon.
Both set of eyes are trained on the floor.
"If she wants to say something, she'll say it." He thinks.
There is no use for Lucas to attempt to rave on about how Kit deserved to be treated better or how her friends were no good people. Kit would just defend them. She would keep persisting that it won't happen again, that people can change, that things will get better soon. So Lucas sits and listens and he occasionally nods, reminding Kit to drink her tea before it gets too cold. He muses over the seemingly endless cycle that they keep finding themselves in with one question in mind: Why do bad things continuously happen to good people?
Kit finally clears her throat.
The Meaning of Friendship
E. Kairos