The building smells like paper and cold air.
Not hospital cold. Not office cold. Something in between. Neutral. Like it doesn’t care what you’re here to lose.
I keep thinking I’ll feel dramatic when I walk in. Like this will be a moment. A scene. Something cinematic where my legs shake or my heart races or I almost turn around.
None of that happens.
I just walk.
My mum sits beside me, purse on her lap, hands folded like she’s in church. She doesn’t talk much. Just nods when I look at her. Like, I’m here. Like, I’ll stay as long as you need.
The lawyer says my name. Full name. Clear. Correct.
It sounds heavier than it should.
We follow her into a room with glass walls. Everything is visible but private at the same time. I hate that. It feels accurate.
She lays the documents out car
