“Are you feeling alright? You don’t look it.”
“You’re one to talk,” Brooke said before realizing what that meant. Silently cursing herself for her reactionary response, she produced a small batch of flowers. “I…would’ve gotten more but, uh, you don’t want to hear about my problems.” She let out a sigh and sat at the chair across from Kate. “The short answer is no. I’m not. I feel like absolute shit.”
Brooke’s hair was all messed up; it didn’t even look like she’d done it today, and a small series of red lines were visible on her left cheek. “It doesn’t compare to what you went through,” she said, “but sometimes it’s really, really hard to put things in perspective.” Brooke looked Kate dead in the eyes; hers were bloodshot and dry. “You’ve always seen the best in people, Kate,” Brooke said; it was what she admired most in Kate, “so….tell me what you see in me.” Her voice had gone from its standard almost snobbish tone to something that bordered on pleading, wavering out of control.
