The television flickered softly against the dim walls, voices rising and falling in a rhythm that should have been easy to follow.
Ava sat curled into the corner of the couch, one leg tucked beneath her, fingers resting lightly against the armrest. The remote lay untouched beside her. On the screen, someone laughed. It sounded distant. Like it belonged to another room.
Her gaze stayed fixed forward, but nothing settled.
She blinked once.
Slowly, the same thoughts pressed in again, quiet but relentless.
Her throat tightened. She swallowed, adjusting her posture as though the movement might ease the pressure building beneath her ribs.
Why? The question hovered, shapeless, refusing to land anywhere solid.
Her hands folded loosely in her lap. Fingertips pressing together, then releasing
