Ava, My Heart
angry, distant, unreachable, but still impossibly present, the center of her world.
The clock ticked past 6 a.m., the first full light of dawn spilling into the room, painting the walls in soft, unforgiving pale. She lay curled under the blanket, small and fragile, a figure trapped by the weight of her own regret. She felt hollowed, exhausted, raw, and achingly alone.
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