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The choices we make
The choices we make
Hazel
Sitting on the couch at Jonathan's house, I know I'm acting childish and sulky, but I can't control myself. I've never been one to complain much about the difficulties of life, always fought for everything I wanted, but I've had to fight so much for my professional choice that I always overreact, and I just got scolded because I was talking too loud. I wish I could say I didn't want to react like this, but no words come out of my mouth. He is ready to leave the room, saying he is going to get some clothes for me.
"You can choose three more guest rooms to sleep in. You won't be bothered at all. You have my word. All I ask is that you get to know the house better before your mother arrives here."
He leaves. He's definitely angry with me. And I'm angry with the world. I can't even reflect on everything I've just seen in his house. All the curiosity about the mysterious room, about the instruments he
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