Page 83 of Nothing Crazy


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She swallows once, eyes fixed straight ahead.

“I’m not going.”

I sit down beside her, my knee brushing hers and letting out a slow sigh.

“Talk to me.”

“I don’t want to see people.”

“Why?”

“Because happy people are triggering.”

“Oh my gosh…” The words slip out under my breath, more irritated than I meant. Her head snaps toward me, and just like that, my stomach drops.

“What?” she asks. Voice sharpening, she repeats, “What?”

“Nothing.” I shake my head, instantly wishing I could take the tone back.

“No. Clearly you have an opinion—so what is it?”

I exhale hard, running a hand over my jaw. “I just…I don’t understand how happy people are triggering. So…what? You wanna be around sad and angry people instead?”

“Yes!” she fires back. “I want to be around people who aren’t all great all the time.”

“You think everyone at church has some perfect life or something?”

“Well, they sure act like it.”

“Well, clearly you’re not talking to people,” I say, frustration tightening my voice. “Because every time I talk to anyone there, they’re not bragging about life being so great. They’ve got stuff going on too—work, money, holiday stress, family drama—everyone’s got it, Megan. They’re just not gonna advertise it.”

“Well, it seems fake,” she snaps.

“They’re not fake,” I shoot back. “They’re just thinking more positive than you, I guess.”

Her jaw drops slowly, disbelieving. But, I mean, it’s true. She’s not thinking positively. Lately she rarely does.

Megan stands up, blanket in one arm, coffee and phone in the other, and brushes past me toward the door without another word.

“I’m just being honest,” I call after her. “That’s all.”

She spins around, eyes sharp. “No. You’re beingrude.”

“Alright.” I shrug, not backing down. “It came out blunt. Fine. But I’m not wrong, Megan. Youarestuck in a negative mindset. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Oh.” She lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Oh wow.”

“What?” I ask, crossing my arms.

“So I’m negative. Got it.”

“I said mindset, notyou. Don’t twist it.”

“Same thing!”

“It’s not,” I insist.

We stare at each other, both breathing sharp, neither budging.