015

LIAM

I shut the door behind me and let my back hit it for a second. Just one second. Just long enough to pretend the world wasn’t pressing in from every angle like a weight I couldn’t shake.

My tie hung loose around my neck, my shirt was half untucked, and I looked like the punchline to a cruel joke called “Keep It Together.”

I didn’t bother with the bed. My feet carried me past it like they knew better. Like some part of me understood I didn’t deserve rest. Not yet.

I dropped to the floor beside it, legs sprawled, back to the wall.

The wood felt cold against my spine, grounding. My breath left me slowly, heavy and hollow. A tired kind of grief sat in my chest like it had paid rent.

“I miss you, Mom,” I whispered to the dark.

Her picture stared back at me from the top shelf. That same soft smile, eyes kind and knowing, like she always had the answers, even when no one was asking. It was the only warm thing in the room.

The rest of the house was still. Just the faint ticking of the hal