STELLA
The city never slept, but I wished I could.
I leaned against the cool metal railing of my balcony, watching the endless lights flicker across the skyline. Buildings stretched toward the heavens, their windows glowing like distant stars, while cars moved in streams below, their headlights painting the streets in streaks of white and red. The night smelled of damp pavement and distant cigarette smoke, the air crisp but heavy, pressing down on my skin like a weight I couldn’t shake off.
A slow, bitter laugh left my lips. It had been almost more than a month, yet here I was, standing in the same place, feeling the same pain.
The wine glass in my hand was almost empty, the deep red liquid staining the sides as I swirled it absentmindedly. It was my second glass. Maybe my third. I was
