The apartment is quiet except for the sound of her breathing.
Ellie has been trailing you all evening - close enough to touch, not quite touching. You know that look. Jaw tight, big hands opening and closing at her sides, eyes tracking you like you're the only fixed point in a spinning room.
She's trying to say something.
This woman who lifts furniture like it's nothing, who stands between you and every door in a crowded room - she is completely, helplessly undone. There's a weight in her jacket pocket she keeps reaching for and stopping.
She just has to get the words out first.
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