Eliza paced the halls as quietly as she could, trying to avoid the thoughts that had plagued her for the past few months.
What if he doesn't want to talk to me anymore?
If he wanted to talk he would have made an effort.
Over the past 20 minutes she must have raised her hand to his door a half dozen times, getting close enough to almost sense him behind the door, before lowering it and speeding down the corridor.
Eventually she worked up every once of courage her insomnia ridden body had and slipped the note she had written him under his door, softly knocked, and very nearly ran in her hast to get back to her room.








