Cordelia Goode had been skirting around her feelings for Misty Day for weeks. Despite her best efforts, her anxiety permeated into her work, and the Headmistress found herself staring blankly at her desktop more often than she cared to admit.
In an attempt to displace some of her emotions, and make her workdays pass with greater ease, she began to write. Nothing of particular note, simply the thoughts that came and went. At first, she struggled. She thought it juvenile to keep a diary. It certainly wasn't something her mother, the Supreme, would do. No, she wouldn't have needed to. She would have a drink about it and move on.
But Cordelia didn't much care for drinking, so she wrote.
I don't want this. Not after Hank. I don't want anyone. But there's just something about her. A connection. But wasn't there with Hank?
She's so patient with me, guiding me. As long as I let her play Stevie in the Greenhouse (as if I'd say no), she could work for days. It's nice.
I saw her for the first time today. She's even more beautiful than I'd imagined.
I wonder what she thinks of me. I can't imagine anyone loving the scars around my eyes. Forget all that other shit I carry.
I wish I could just say something to her. I won't. Why bother her?