Space Between
Amanda knew the moment she walked into the faculty lounge Monday morning that things had changed.
Angela was there — perched on the edge of the counter, coffee in hand, laughing at something another teacher said. It should have felt normal. It should have felt easy.
But when Angela caught Amanda's eye, the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Amanda offered a small wave. Angela nodded back — polite. Distant.
Like a coworker. Like a stranger.
Amanda spent the morning pretending everything was fine — grading papers, leading discussions, handling restless seniors — but the knot in her chest only tightened.
By lunch, she couldn’t stand it anymore.
She found Angela in her office, door half-open, a stack of paperwork spread out in front of her.
Amanda knocked lightly. "Hey. Got a minute?"
Angela looked up, her face composed. Too composed. "Hey. Sorry, I’m actually about to jump on a call with a student’s family. Big mess with a transfer request."
Amanda hesitated. "Maybe after?"
Angela glanced at her calendar, then shook her head apologetically. "I have to leave early today. Spork’s vet said he needs more walks to burn off energy.""
Amanda smiled, trying to tease. "I could come with you. Help wear him out."
For a second, something flickered across Angela’s face — something soft and painful.
Then she smiled — small, careful. "I don’t think that’s the best idea right now."
Amanda’s heart twisted.
"Right," she said quickly. "Of course. I just... yeah. It’s fine."
Angela nodded, already reaching for her phone, the conversation slipping away like water through Amanda’s fingers.
Amanda stood there for a second too long, feeling like an idiot, before backing out of the office.
She walked down the hallway on autopilot, the sounds of lockers slamming and students laughing muffled and distant.
Angela wasn’t angry.
Angela was hurt.
And Amanda had no idea how to fix it.