Today I asked you to sit with Grace, Jack and I at lunch.
You said yes, surprisingly.
You sat silently at the table while Grace and Jack laughed and joked obnoxiously. I felt ashamed of them. I didn't join in, I just glanced at you every few seconds to watch your reactions. You had no reactions. I don't think you wanted to sit with us.
When you pulled out your lunch (I don't think you like the cafeteria's food), Jack noticed you for the first time.
“What the hell is that?” he asked. I wanted to punch him.
You almost smiled. Almost. “Seaweed,” you said, taking a bite.
Grace frowned and held out her hand, “Can I try some?” she asked.
She liked it. So did Jack and I. I think that made you happy. I hope it did, at least.
I want to know what makes you happy, June.