Chapter 13

Though I was not in her shoes, I could tell Sylvia was suffering. I felt helpless watching her state. I sighed. "If you can't handle alcohol, you shouldn't drink so much. You're only hurting yourself. You're old enough to know better than this." Sylvia remained silent, hanging her head low to manage her discomfort. I went outside to buy her a bottle of water. When I returned, I found her slumped against the wall, seemingly asleep with her eyes closed and completely still. I approached and gently nudged her, but got no response. Just as I was about to lift her, she awakened and wrapped her arms around my neck, looking at me with a longing gaze. "Hudson, do you like me?" Sylvia was genuinely wonderful. She was beautiful, competent at her job, and kind to others. However, I could not quite define my feelings for her. I did not dislike her company—in fact, I found peace and comfort in our time together and sometimes wished things could stay just as they were. Yet, when it came to a