Lila
The weight of the pressure was suffocating me.
I woke up in the morning, I yawned and stretched up on my bed. I checked my face in the mirror, it was rough and entered the bathroom and washed my face. I came back and sat down on the couch.
This was the only way I could articulate it—the burden of Alex's kindness, Max's empathy, and my uncertainty weighing on me until I was gasping for air.
I sensed I was a delicate vase balancing precariously on a shelf, just one misstep away from breaking apart.
I believed I could manage it. I believed I could sort out my emotions while managing everything else in my life, but the reality was, I couldn't.
The gala had communicated that.
After Alex departed from my apartment, I remained on the couch in quietude, gazing at the vacant spot where he had sat.
His voice echoed in my mind: "Take all the time you need." I understood he was sincere, but it didn't ease the situation at all.
