Conviction

Ah! Have a seat, I’m so glad you’re back. I was wondering when you’d turn up… well, if you’d ever turn up.
My hands find themselves grappling the coffee table, unable to bring my eyes to her face. Friend. 
Uh, are you comfortable? I’ve plumped up the cushions for you.
I pat the seat around her, taken aback by my cordial manner and continue.
I notice that as time has gone by, you’ve… you’ve grown quieter. Probably because I don’t pay you much attention. I was beginning to worry that I’d-
wait, I’ve got to get the cookies.
My hands shake as I carry the smoking tray out of the oven. I kick the oven door shut with one leg, arms out and tongue hanging from concentration, trying to keep the cookies from slipping off. I settle the tray on top of a silicone mat. The cookies smell divine.
So yeah, I was worrying that I might never see you again.
I motion to the cookies.
Have a chocolate chip. No fuss, I just printed the recipe off the internet. Wanted to try a new site. Anyway, I don’t blame you for running away. I’d be sick of straining my voice as well. Sorry about that, really.
I look her in the eye and say it again.
I’m sorry.
I take her hand and press my face against it.
I need you.
We hug each other and I can’t stop crying for the longest time. It feels good to feel bad. 

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