I was sitting only two seats away from Sara, but it seemed like she was listening to a completely different lecture. Her eyes were glazed and her mouth was open slightly to reveal perfect pouting lips. Her features seemed empty and pale; exhausted. I had a bizarre urge to give her a big hug, the kind that wordlessly conveys understanding and trust, but I knew she would shrug me off. Her face would have hardened and eyes swiveled to form that well known look of desolation spiked with pity. Not for herself, never for herself. Its pity for me; the mere mortal who can’t possibly fathom the extent of her problems.
Even then, a week after Sam told me how she cheated on him, I couldn’t hate her. All I could do was stare at her deathly calm expression, refusing to believe that her look of mournful innocence was nothing but a facade. I couldn’t confront her; I knew this truth would rip apart the fragile normalcy of our two-dimensional friendship. Thus her secret became my secret as well.