I was starting to get better, but he said my name. The way he said it made it seem like a curse. To be fair ‘better’ only meant I finally felt I had the energy to put on that fake smile. I have two fake smiles. The one that everyone knows is fake, and the one that I perfected. Today I wear the perfected one, because I don’t want him to ask what’s wrong. I don’t want to lie to him, and telling him the truth will hurt him. Suffering in silence is easier. I can handle the pain. Maybe he can too, but I refuse to take the chance. He matters, he saves people.