Haunting-Adeline

For the next hour, we mingle around the ballroom, talking to random
people, many of them familiar faces I’ve seen on the news, arguing over
bills and laws that usually do nothing but fla en Americans further under
their thumbs.
Zade is charming, his demeanor calm and slightly reserved, but s ll
manages to draw people in un l they’re hanging on every word he says.
Most of their eyes linger on his scars. Ques ons on the p of their
tongues that never see the light. You’d think it’s because it’s a rude
ques on to ask, but really, it’s because Zade carries in mida on around
with him like a woman with a designer purse.
Despite that, he’s a sight to behold as he works the room, gaining these
people’s trust and interest in a ma er of minutes.
I’ve no idea who’s involved in Zade’s mission and who’s not, but he looks
at each and every one of these people as if he knows exactly who they are
and their en re life story. Maybe that’s how he sucks them in so
profoundly—he makes them feel like they’ve known each other for years.
I, on the other hand, am not a natural. The social anxiety licks at my
nerves, keeping my heart rate well above a normal pace. I smile at the
strangers and laugh at everything they say, doing what I do best and
manipulate people’s emo ons with my words. I pretend they’re all avid
readers, and the words I’m speaking are prin ng on blank sheets of paper
for their greedy eyes to consume.
Somehow, it works to the point of discomfort as all of their eyes are
ensnared on me as I answer their ques ons about my career. I heed Zade’s
advice and keep it all vague and surface-level but find pre y words to
make my life seem more interes ng than it is. Even Zade appears to
struggle with looking away, and the no on gives me a small bit of
confidence.
But on the inside, it feels like my stomach is a black hole, crumpling my
insides like a wadded-up piece of paper.
On several occasions throughout the hour, Zade wraps his arm around
my waist and squeezes, his grip firm and reassuring. Those small touches
are anchors, leveling my head and reminding me that I’m not alone.
Mark seems to appear out of thin air, joining the two couples gathered
around Zade, listening to him speak about some interac on he had with