[Lost] Little boxes, little boxes...

[akonken.livejournal.com]

Rose splashed her face with water, blotting it with a towel. She examined her reflection, satisfied that there was no longer any indication of the tears she'd been crying. This was becoming part of her daily routine, and she was beginning to accept that.

"You don't even mean it, do you? You're just saying what I want to hear!" Mark's echoing words didn't make any sense to her. Clearly it wasn't what he wanted to hear. She could tell the first time she'd said it, but she did mean it, and she didn't know what else to say to comfort him. If she hadn't meant it, she would have said something else. She might even have defended herself, but she didn't see how arguing with the grieving man would help, so instead she just apologised.

She stopped that train of thought in its place. She would have to face the day soon, and it was her duty to show the world her hope. She began to list the joys of her life: she had a home, she still had a family (although not as- stop that thought), she was wholeheartedly in love, she had friends - good friends.

That was enough. She put a smile on her face. Time to put it all away and live for today.

This must be what Stitches called compartmentalising.