The hospital cafeteria was cold and nearly empty, save for the ten patients in Amora’s unit. Still, Amora preferred it to dinners back home.
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Those had been filled with awkward tension and quiet anxiety.
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Now, though—surrounded by people who understood her—Amora felt something warmer. A sense of belonging she hadn’t felt in a long time.
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Lizzy sat across from her at their usual table, the tension between them thick enough to taste.
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“So…” Amora began, but stopped.
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The words wouldn’t come. She didn’t want them to.
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Lizzy was leaving. Amora wasn’t—not yet, anyway. And saying it out loud would make it too real. Too final.
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If she could just pretend—just for a little longer—that everything was normal… maybe it would be.
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At least for today.
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But Lizzy, like always, was one step ahead.
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She slid her journal across the table, the anti-suicide pen tucked neatly inside.
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This is not goodbye.
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Amora’s eyes stung, but she forced the tears back, managing a small smile.
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She wanted to write everything—every feeling she had for Lizzy—but she knew it was too soon. Knew Lizzy probably didn’t feel the same.
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They were in a mental hospital, for crying out loud. Love wasn’t supposed to be part of the equation.
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Amora took a bite of the dry bread on her tray and picked up the pen.
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It’s just see you later.
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She smiled, hopeful—praying it was true.
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