I lean against the cool refrigerator door, glancing out the kitchen window at the fading dusk. I can't say anything to her, because I know my voice will break the moment a word leaves my mouth. Only the hum of the fridge fills the silence.
She looks up, eyes glistening under the fluorescent light.
"You're not going to ask me why?" At her words, my dry throat tightens.
"Why?" I squeeze out.
She's silent for a few moments. Her lips part and close several times.
"I'm just fucking scared," she utters at last.