TANISHA
After an agonizing day of combing through work with tears, and so much ire that almost brought me over the edge of a psychotic breakdown, I was grateful for the little gift of finally arriving home.
My neighborhood in Queens was communal in the way that it was normal for people to yell greetings from troops, and have kids running around with missing shoes and half-melted ice pops. Someone was always grilling something that smells way better than whatever sad dinner I was about to make.
I climbed the stairs to the apartment, keys jangling, almost in slow motion. Physical exhaustion was one thing, but mental exhaustion? That was soul shredding. I pushed open the door, aggressively removing my shoes and clothes.
I found my sounding board sprawled on the couch, eating Cheetos, l
