He stares at me for a moment. "Why not you?" His response doesn't answer my question, but it quells some of my anxiety, like maybe he can't see the flaws I see. Maybe what I see in the mirror, the girl my mother raised in little houses, isolated and overprotected, isn't the same woman he's looking at. Maybe one of us isn't seeing me clearly here, and maybe it's him... Or maybe it's me.
