“You are so not understanding, Olivia,” Petunia sighed.

The kind of sigh that already decided she was right.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll find something you like. The mall is so hu-” Olivia stepped closer to her friends, hoping proximity would dissolve the tension.

Above them, oversized Christmas ornaments hung from the ceiling. Golden garlands wrapped around the railings of the upper floors. A fake cinnamon scent floated in the air, mixed with perfume from the cosmetics store

The other two were laughing about something on a phone screen, heads pressed together. Secrets, maybe. Or just closeness she didn’t quite reach.

“Ugh. Just let it go,” Petunia whined, walking ahead and dropping onto a bench beneath the artificial christmas lights hanging from the ceiling. “You’re so selfish.”

The word landed strangely under the twinkling lights.

Selfish.

Olivia blinked.

Petunia was the oldest of their group. Olivia had always gravitated toward girls like that. Girls who felt like mentors. But this new friend felt as if she reached with her hand, and a mirror image had reached back.

They shared pains. Interests. Late-night confessions.
They were each other’s diary.

Petunia had been brilliant. Smarter than Olivia in ways that felt sharp and practical. Business-savvy. Efficient. She had encouraged Olivia to be herself.

At least at the beginning.

But as the years passed, and trust deepened, something shifted.

Petunia seemed bothered by the very things she once praised.

A short pink skirt.
Her uncurable sweet tooth.
Multiple refusals to rush.

Growth, however, had done something to Olivia too.

She had learned not to dim the bright parts of herself. Not fit her bright sunshine like whimsy in the box someone set.

She refused to walk faster just because Petunia was impatient.

Refused to laugh when Petunia dismissed something.

Refused to stop wearing a damn sparkly pink skirt on the tube just because it drew attention.

Just because Petunia said so.

She had started saying no.

And maybe this moment had been culminating for a while.

“I’m sorry- I never meant to make you feel like that,” Olivia's mouth moved faster, the apology escaping before her thoughts could catch it. Her habitual strain of tought.

“I just think sometimes you don’t consider what others want,” Petunia added, adjusting her coat.

Others.

Petunia had planned the day.

Now she sat bitter.

Olivia would have been happy with frozen yogurt and window shopping. Watching reflections blur in glass, in absurd patterned shirts.

But her friends felt far.

And then they came, these same usual toughts.

Maybe she was difficult.
Maybe she was too much.
Added to the list: Maybe she was selfish.

She looked at Petunia under the artificial lights. So stressed, and pale from her own doing.

No.

This wasn’t right.