Lollipop and promises

i

top moving just bec

ingers stiff with fatigue, and stare at the ceiling. My body is heavy, my mind already running through the day ahead. Three classes.

. I already k

a mattress on the floor, a thrifted desk in the corner, and a kitchenette that barely fits a microw

ine. My first class starts at 7:30, and if I miss the bus, I'll have to speed-walk six blocks to make

at my phone. No mess

? Hey, how's rock bottom treating you today? I shu

class is in a packed lecture hall, and even though I take notes and try to focus, my brain feels like it's wading through fog

y noon, my stomach is protesting from lack of food, but I don't have time for lunch. In

tarts

cleaning solution mixed with something vaguely stale. I clock in and head

But after hours of standing at a register, smiling at strangers, and repeatin

ys a single can of soup. The mom with two toddlers

every day, always buying the same cherry lollipop. I don't know why, but I don't ask. He'

he no

and focus on scanning

standing up. The break room is empty when I step inside, the hum of the vending machines t

utes. That's

, my body sinking into the kind of e

ean to fa

I

I'm the

ights blinding through the windshield. My dad's hands gr

Glass shatters. The worl

hen-n

nd my hands are trembling as I grip the table, trying to ground myself. It takes a secon

y and rub my ha

my dad died. Since my whole world cracked

nightmares

ick and suffocating. The flash of headlights, the feeling of weightlessness as the car spun,

, thud of them against the glass. My dad was humming to the radio, something slow and easy, like he

etting home. I was tired. I had school the ne

a pair of headlights

st. To

didn't stop. Didn

ling. My dad's arm reaching for me-too late, too late. The world flip

en...

in a hos

never wok

tight, my hands curled into fi

I force myself to stand, shake off the linger

no time

or anythi

ack into the bright, buzzing