Trigger Warning for heavy angst and grief in the coming chapters, especially troubling backstories.
"Thanks for meeting me, Eliza," Aaron said.
"Sure." Her answer was simple and quiet.
He watched her run a nail over the rim of her glass, staring at the alcohol within, as if it was her lifeline.
"I'm sorry about Alexander," he said quietly. "And Phillip."
"Thanks, she replied colorlessly. "I'm sorry about Theodosia."
For what must have been the millionth time in the last month, the grief hit him square in the chest.
"Do you think it ever stops?" he asked, and felt almost childish.
She shook her head wordlessly.
"I thinkā¦" She swirled her drink. "I think all that 'time heals' stuff is bullshit. I don't think it ever really stops. But eventually...you just move on."
"But how?" he asked.
She knocked back the last dregs of her drink. "No idea." The glass slammed down on the counter.
She pushed back her seat and stood up. "There's a grief counseling group that meets in the gym on Thursdays at six. I'll be there. You should come."
The word "thanks" got stuck in Aaron's throat as Eliza scribbled something down on a napkin and tossed it at Burr along with a few bills.
"Call me if you need me."
And with that, she left.
And Aaron was left with his thoughts and a half-empty glass.
Review, please!
