This was a mistake. 

Her brows furrowed, and I had that feeling wash over me that I’d missed something. Had I left her this angry? Maybe I never should have asked her to come; it was far too expectant. What kind of person just invited a complete stranger to their place without even knowing them?

“I think I saw a printer upstairs. Let me grab it,” I said.

“You don’t even know if you have a printer?” she said, her eyes widening.

“I do. There is definitely one upstairs, just-” I paused, watching her nostrils flare. “Let me just get it.”

My voice trailed off before I turned and hurried up to the office space. I found the printer I knew sat on the wooden desk in the corner and grabbed it. Only a few seconds passed before I was once again downstairs. I rounded the corner, but Lenore was gone.

“Len?” I called out and set the printer on the table.

She already left?

I heard shuffling in the kitchen and followed it. Lenore stood at the counter, making another pot of coffee. The smell of the morning’s pot had faded, but already, the new batch filled the room. I inhaled deeply, letting the scent ground me.

Deep breaths. You can get through this and then be free of her. 

I caused the problem myself, impulsively inviting her here. Already, I could see what a mistake it had been.

“The printer’s ready,” I offered.

She nodded without turning to face me.

“I’ll just-”

“Want some?” she asked, finally turning toward me.

I could see in her eyes something was bothering her. It was easy to spot the quiet heaviness within them. I could place the signs but not the cause.

Maybe I was the cause. 

I barely knew her, so why did everything in me hurt to see that darkness?

“I already-” I started, but I stopped myself. “Yes, thank you.”

I couldn’t deny her this small thing. Before I could say anything else, I returned to the dining room and found an outlet for the printer. Its little screen lit up, and I let out a sigh of relief that it was functional.

Lenore came back into the room and set the mug down on the table for me.

“Thanks,” I said.

She opened her laptop and pulled up the files she’d shown me earlier in the week. “All of them?” she asked curtly.

“Yes,” I confirmed.

The process was more torturous than I expected, and guilt increasingly built inside me as we spent over an hour watching each of the documents print slowly. It took minutes just for a single page to make it through the printer.

Len sat opposite of me at the table, closest to the wall, but her back was turned to me. For the entire hour, she’d just stared at the documents on the wall.

“Are you hungry?” I asked while the printer chugged along.