Very, very short. Probably not my best, but I thought I would throw it out there none the less.
How Much More Tragic Can You Get?
Leah has this fantasy.
It's stupid and childish. It's never going to happen. She's embarrassed that the thought has even crossed her mind, she's embarrassed that she can't get a grip on herself.
And she can't stop thinking about it.
The place doesn't really matter; but Leah's there, and she's looks good, and is acting cool and nonchalant.
Then, of course, Sam comes. And he's apologizing, asking how to make it right. He's saying sorry, I'm so sorry for what I did Leah. And, okay, yeah he's said that to her before in real life, but this time it's different. This time he's saying it because he's sorry he met Emily; not that he broke Leah. Because there's a difference, a heart aching difference.
But she won't have anything to do with him, he's just laying at her feet, begging and pleading, and she doesn't care.
Leah's not picky; and that's what she wants more then anything, to not care. She's never going to get her Sam back, her Sam is gone. The Sam who challenged her, and argued with her. Who didn't put up with her bullshit, he's reaching bowls off the top shelf for Emily. He's agreeing with Emily, soothing her, and placating her when she's upset. And that's not Leah's Sam, and she doesn't like this stranger who replaced him.
So she just wants one thing; to not care the boy she fell in love with hadn't died as he changed into a man. That she wouldn't notice that he's never going to come back.
Or even worse, if she was oblivious to the moments, those brief half-seconds when he does.