Eleanor
I tossed and turned since I lay down on the bed, unable to sleep or even, at some point, close my eyes at all.
Then I did it again, staring up at the ceiling of my childhood bedroom as it stretched out above me. It looked familiar and yet suffocating at the same time, like it had shrunk since I was a teenager, pressing down on me now like it knew my secret too. Well, actually, it did.
It knew about it all too well, because this very room had seen me pregnant, this very bed had absorbed a lot of my tears those nights I cried myself to bed, the pillows had muffled my screams, and the walls had heard all I muttered to myself about the man whom I had had the one night stand with, the one I couldn't even remember now.
That night was a blur for me, but it wasn't because I was drun
