That night? It never really ended, it just kind of bled, slow and stubborn, into the next day, like time itself was too weary to draw a line between darkness and morning. The air felt swollen, brimming with a heaviness that was more than just humidity or the threat of rain. It was the kind of thick, burdensome air that huddles in your ribcage after you’ve spent yourself sobbing, believing that if you let it all out, things might finally shift. But they didn’t. Not really.
Write a comment ...