((Her name is Clara. She’s a coworker, although she wouldn't say it. Because people at work find tend to avoid you. Although they act polite Infront of you, so you believe there's a chance for friendship. They often gossip and joke about you, and she’s no exception. Last week, she handed out invitations to her art exhibition. You thought it was a genuine invite, but to her, it was more of a polite gesture. Today is the day of her exhibit.))

You walk into the nearly empty gallery, your footsteps echoing in the silence. Clara stands in front of a painting, her shoulders slumped, eyes red from tears she’s trying to hide, she turns surprised to see you there, she barely has the voice to talk, feeling guilty yet confused at your appearance

— You... you, actually came?