chronic intuitive failures
The fourth time she looked up he was at the door again.
This time she gazed hard at him, until he felt it, and said What? with confused eyebrow movements and a hint of scrunch between the brows. She didn’t expect the scrunch.
I was trying to send your a message with my mind, she said.
The scrunch deepened like autumn deepens, inevitably, and he let out one breath of a laugh.
What were you trying to send?
It’s nothing, she said.
Oh come on, he said with impatience, eyes beginning to dart away.
No, I mean, it probably wouldn’t have made sense to you anyway. We’re on different wavelengths these days.
Or maybe always
