Klara
The sun did not rise on Friday morning; the sky simply transitioned from a pitch black to a heavy, suffocating charcoal. I had not slept. I sat on the edge of my bed in the exact same position Ryan had left me in hours ago, my arms wrapped around my middle, trying to hold together the pieces of a life that had fractured in the dark.
My phone lay dead on the floor. I had called him fifty-seven times before the battery gave out. Each attempt went straight to a cold, robotic voicemail that felt like a door slamming in my face.
When I finally forced myself to stand, my legs felt like lead. I didn't bother with makeup to cover the hollow circles under my eyes or the stark paleness of my skin. I pulled on the heaviest, most shapeless black hoodie I owned, burying myself in the fabric li
