just about to leave

She says my name. I say, "Hey." She sits down opposite me. She dips her fingers in the water nervously and avoids my gaze. She says my name again, and this time I hear something in her tone. Her eyes meet mine and I look away, into my drink, frowning. I ask, "Is something wrong?" I ask, "What's going on?"

She says, "I wasn't going to come out tonight." She says, "I thought it was important, though." She smiles, and there is no joy in her smile. It's an apology. It's nervous. It's not intended for me. She shifts, and I meet her gaze just as she goes back to averting it.

I ask, "What's going on?"

Her smile drains. She takes a drink of water. She looks me in the eye. She says, "I'm leaving. I thought maybe you'd want to know." She says, "You seem like a decent guy." She says, "Sorry." She gets up to leave.

I don't say anything. There's lots I could be saying, but it won't change anything. It'll keep for a fevered late night.