Elsa has to go back for another appointment after Christmas. She's just barely hit thirty-three weeks.
There's no gentle kisses or smiles while they wait. Anna's staring at the floor between her feet. Every so often, her eyes flicker over to Elsa. She doesn't notice.
Everything still seems unreal.
Elsa's barely said two words to her.
She doesn't want the silence. The looks. But whenever Elsa opens her mouth to speak, the words get lodged in her throat, choking her.
So she just says nothing at all. She knows Anna doesn't understand.