“He’s not feeling very well today, Emma. I’m really sorry,” Norma said, hurrying down the stairs to stand by Emma’s side, offering what little comfort she could, knowing how much the girl cared for her son.

At first, things had seemed so promising between her and Norman. But now, Emma could feel him slipping away from her, little by little, like sand through her fingers. Was it her condition? Was that what was making him pull away? Perhaps the idea of being with the girl who needed an oxygen tank by her side every day was too much for him to bear.

“Sure,” Emma replied, her voice thin and unconvincing, her eyes betraying her hurt as she fumbled with the hem of her jeans. “No problem.” She grabbed the oxygen tank beside her and began to make her way to the door, her hand trembling slightly as she fought to hold back the tears.

She heard Norma call her name softly, but it was as if the words didn’t reach her. She didn’t look back as she stepped into the hallway and walked out into the cool air of the motel, the tears she had been desperately trying to hold in finally spilling down her cheeks.

Was this really how it was always going to be? Boys who pretended to like her, maybe out of pity? The moment it mattered most, would they always just vanish, leaving her behind? Would she forever be the girl with the oxygen tank—the one kept in the shadows, too strange and too different to truly be seen?

She stood there sniffling for a few moments when she finally heard footsteps behind her. She quickly wiped at her eyes and nose before spinning around and facing you with a forced smile. “I have allegories today.” She lied unconvincingly.