A couple seconds tick by, and the boy cannot stand it any longer. He opens his mouth to speak, but then closes it again, as if he could not find the words. The girl sitting opposite him stares at him with anger in her face. Her eyes, however, are sad and tired. Her fiery red hair is tied up in a dancer’s bun, but a few strands straggle out and frame her face. Her pale skin is dotted with freckles, bringing out the chocolate brown of her eyes. Across from her, the boy studies the girl’s face, perhaps searching for answers to the questions in his eyes. With a sweep of his sandy hair, he stands up, the chair squeaking. The blue in his eyes sharply contrasts to his tan skin, and the girl’s eyes narrow.

“You’re not going to say anything?” Her tinkling voice is distorted by anger. The boy says nothing, but he runs his fingers through his hair. Finally, he murmurs,

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” The girl springs up from her chair infuriated.

“Say something! Anything! Don’t leave me here to try and decipher your thoughts!” The girl takes a step towards the boy. “Don’t shut me out.” She reaches for his hand, trying to make him understand, perhaps. “Talk to me, John.” There is a long silence, which only enrages the girl even more. She drops his hand and takes a step back, anger and hurt written in her features.

Finally, the boy, John, speaks. Looking into her chocolate eyes, unknowingly shattering her heart, he says,

“I don’t know how to make you happy.”