Fifty

Maria

Something about Mikhail has changed.

There's something different in the way he looks—no, glares—at me. He seems to go out of his way not to be around, like I'm chasing him out of his own home. Ironic since I'm not allowed to leave. I feel him drifting away from me, and I don't know why. His reluctance to share what's happening in his head is frustrating, and it scares me.

Mikhail sits across from me in the living room, and his eyes focus on something outside the window. It's late afternoon, and he hasn't been out. He looks good in just a button-down shirt with no tie and gray pants. I stare at him until he looks, and then I quickly look away.

"Hey." My voice squeaks with doubt. "Is everything okay?"

Mikhail hesitates for a moment before turning to face me. His icy stare sends a nasty shock through my system, and I lean back hard against the couch. "Yes," he replies coolly.

"Are you sure?" I ask impatiently.

"Maria, it's fine," he insists, though I see blankness in his eyes.

One