Raven
I swear the universe woke up today and chose violence.
That was the only explanation that made sense—some cosmic hand flipping a switch labeled stress test and deciding to see how much I could take before I cracked. Because if there was a rulebook for bad days, today was running through it line by line with manic enthusiasm.
A thunderstorm violent enough to rattle my bones.
A lunch from hell with Karolina.
A rock kicked up on the drive back that spiderwebbed my windshield.
And now—
I tightened my grip on the broom, knuckles aching, as glass crunched beneath the bristles.
My storefront window was gone.
Not cracked. Not chipped.
Gone.
Shattered inward, jagged shards glittering across the floor like a cruel imitation of confetti. The irony wasn’t lost on me—how beautiful dest
