I went through school that day, somehow. When I got home, though, I promptly threw up.

Why did Elsa have to do that? Why? What could she possibly have gained from it? A moment of satisfaction?

She hadn't been satisfied. That I knew.

She left so quickly, fading away like a ghost. I almost could convince myself that what happened hadn't happened, except that it had.

It had.

So I picked myself up, and I fixed myself, and I carried on through the day.

I didn't see Elsa again that day. Not once.