[She can't argue that. Kamala looks at her feet, visibly depressed. She wants to help, but what can she do? Something funny is happening here. She can't solve it. Eventually she just types out a miserable admission.]
I'm really worried about you, PB. I'm glad the bruises are gone, but this doesn't seem right.
no subject
I'm really worried about you, PB. I'm glad the bruises are gone, but this doesn't seem right.