SEIRRA'S POINT OF VIEW
The air felt different today.
Maybe it was just me overthinking again, or maybe it was the fact that—for the first time in forever—I had somewhere to go. Somewhere official. Somewhere that didn’t involve pain, or Becca’s couch, or sitting behind a screen like a ghost no one remembered.
I stood in front of the mirror for a long time. Too long. Maybe too long
Becca had laid out an outfit for me like the sweetheart she is—a clean white blouse tucked into a navy-blue pencil skirt. It hugged my waist and flared out a little past my knees. Classy. Modest. Confident. She even handed me a pair of black kitten heels and said, “These are your power shoes today.”
I didn’t say much. Just nodded. My hands were still shaking while I tied my hair into a simple low bun. I added
