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 flipen...
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