Clara
I woke up in the room where I grew up.
It took me a few seconds to understand where I was. The white ceiling, the antique lamp, the light curtains that my mother never wanted to change because she said the most beautiful light in the house came through them. Everything was the same… and, at the same time, I was completely different.
I stared at the ceiling, breathing slowly, with that strange feeling of having returned to a safe place with a shattered heart.
Separation is also a kind of grief, even if no one tells you. Even if you decided it yourself.
I turned my head and my eyes fell on the desk, the same one I had used during my university years. I sat up slowly and walked toward it, as if afraid of stirring up memories I wasn't yet ready to face.
I opened the first drawer;
