Angela wasn't sure how long she stood there staring at him through the patio's glass doors. She was never this unsure of herself. Well, not until him. He was unusually quiet, none of his charming smiles and caring gestures to be seen. He has been like this since his brother came over two days ago.
She shouldn't have been watching him when he was like this. She knew she wouldn't be okay if someone did the same to her. But when she told herself to stop, to walk away, her feet wouldn't move. Ernesto just looked so sad. Lonely. She wasn't sure how a man that laughed and smiled as much as he did could be this forlorn.
For the tenth time she talked herself out of just gripping the handle and pushing the sliding door open. What if he was just like her and hated when people saw him vulnerable?
