All day Saturday, I thought I might throw up. Felt my throat constrict and my back arch, bend me over. Nothing came out. I'd heave a wet cough and straighten back up, a growing tightness in my neck.
Roman, perched on his counter, drinking a cup of coffee asked me if I was alright.
I only grunted in confirmation, stretching my legs over his beige white swirled carpet before settling back onto the couch.
Seeing Tom on the news had been . . . unexpected. Seeing his head down, the police escorting him from the police station to a cop car. The whole video had lasted maybe ten seconds, him descending down the stairs, anger tightening his jaw as the officers around him spoke with smug smiles. Ten seconds that hit me like an avalanche, heavy and hard, trapping me until I would freeze alive.
An
