Mom offered to drive me home, but I declined, even though my face was still puffy from all the crying in her office. I needed some space, some time to clear my head. Being trapped in a car with her would only bring more tears, and I was done with those for now. Despite the ache in my body and the heaviness in my limbs, I walked home anyway, each step weighed down by the burden of too many thoughts.
The fifteen-minute walk back to my neighborhood gave me plenty of time to replay the scene in the hallway over and over. I mentally sifted through all the things I could've said, every action I could've taken to change the outcome. It was that painful loop you get stuck in after something awful happens—how you think of every perfect response too late, when it no longer matters. I could have beg
