It's a trip. Maybe the edible from earlier hasn't worn off yet. Maybe I'm dreaming. A hyper-realistic dream, it must be. But Sabine looks different from what I remember. Older, obviously. And she looks ... angry. Almost like Aristo when I took him to get his shot this morning. Waiting to leap and claw my eyes out.

Apart from that, her hair is different. It's almost curly. 16-year-old Sabine would have never. She would put her hair through the torture of straightening it almost every single day. 16-year-old Sabine would have also never in a million years have ended up here – in this rainy town in the middle of nowhere. She always said she wanted to live in a cluttered apartment in a big, bustling city.

I fold my arms over my chest.

"Are you gonna tell me how you ended up here, Sabine?"

She's glaring at me menacingly. Why so angry, Sabine! "I took a plane."

Alright, two can play that game. I narrow my eyes, too. "But why?"

"Because why the fuck not, Hughes? Do I need your permission to take fucking planes now?"

I mentally take a step back. She is definitely angry. I go to the armchair, pick up Aristo, sit down, place him on my lap. "Are you ... pissed with me?"

She continues to glare at me. Her lips are pursed. "No." She says and looks away.

"You sound pissed."

"I don't." She says. I don't say anything. Because I feel like she has something more to say. She does:

"Why would I even be pissed? Have you given me a reason to be pissed? No, all you did was show up to where I'm at, and then ask me why I'm here, and nothing else. Years of radio silence and then – why are you here, Sabine."

"I don't sound like that." I say. She sounds like she is on the verge of tears.

"Fuck you, Hughes." I hear a shaky breath. Then she stands up, still holding on to the blanket she has wrapped around herself. Then she throws it off, and storms out of the room without a word more.

I'm ... stunned. Like when you put a deer in headlights, and it's so shocked, it can't even move for a few seconds? That's me. I should've gone after her, asked her why she's so angry. But I'm still having trouble fathoming she's even here. I need a few business days to let that sink in, first.

So I just sit. Aristo in my lap. Dazed. Sabine Sabine Sabine.

Maryann comes back. A steaming cuppa in her hand, which she hands to me. Then she notices Sabine's missing from the room.

"Jesus, where'd she go?" She asks me.

I shrug my shoulders. "Upstairs, I believe."

"What'd you do, Hughes?" She asks me accusingly. "What's going on!"

"I didn't do anything! I just came here! And I ... I asked her what she's doing here."

Maryann huffs like she's done with me. She turns away, calling out, "Sabine!", as she hurries up the stairs.

Aristo yawns leisurely, shifting around. I hold the cup away, off the side of the armchair, lest I spill over him, and draw more of Maryann's, or Sabine's wrath.

I sigh. I'm so clueless. I still think I'm dreaming.

Aristo gets up abruptly and jumps off my lap. I take a sip or two of the tea, then I stand. I can't be in this house for a moment longer. My head might just explode. I leave the tea on the coffee table, along with the jam I brought with me. And then I am walking out the damn door.