(Trish's POV)
The Monday following the funeral felt like walking through a dream where the floor was made of glass.
Every step I took in the hallways of Mthland High felt precarious, as if the slightest vibration would shatter the fragile peace I was trying to maintain. My mother was gone. The earth was fresh over her grave, and yet, the world kept turning. The bells kept ringing, students kept laughing, and the sun had the audacity to keep shining.
Joseph hadn’t been home when I left. Miss Britney had needed him to run errands; thank-you notes for the funeral flowers, picking up groceries, and helping her manage the influx of neighbors stopping by to offer their condolences.
He had looked at me before I walked out the door, his eyes lingering on mine with an intensity that made my h
