Wordle by Wordle: Day 41
Saturday, Feb 10, 2024
Wordle #966 - FRIED
Bree takes another step toward the door. “Well, I’d better…”
“Right, sorry,” I say sheepishly, embarrassed that I’ve put my needs before Bree’s for even a second. “Are you sure you’ll be okay by yourself? I could stay over for the night.”
“No, that’s alright. I think I need some time alone,” Bree says. Her eyes are pinched with exhaustion. “Bye, Cece. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay, call me if you need me.”
Bree leaves quickly, showing herself out and closing the door behind her before I can reach it. Not even a goodbye hug.
Which, honestly, is fine by me. I feel completely hugged out. And cried out, somehow, even though I haven’t shed a single tear—even though the urge to cry is always there, clutching at the back of my eyes.
But most of all, I’m checked out. My brain is more deeply fried than an Oreo at the state fair.
I need sleep. Especially after a night spent tossing and turning. And for what? Roy was already dead…
I sigh and pull my sweater off over my head as I shuffle into the bedroom. Splotches of Bree’s smeared mascara make a Rorschach of the cable knit. That’s me—a literal shoulder to cry on.
I couldn’t help but notice that Bree never asked me how I was doing, whether I was okay. She of all people should know that, even though we’re divorced, I still care about Roy.
Were divorced. Cared about him. Past.
As badly as I want to ignore it, I know I have to face what happened. Because I’m going to catch the person who murdered Roy.
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