Sara Michaels
The next morning came too soon.
I stood under the shower longer than I should have, letting the hot water pound against my shoulders until my skin turned pink.
Yesterday’s cold still lingered in my bones...like the patio water, like Tom’s stare, like Emily’s laugh echoing in my ears. I scrubbed hard, as if soap could wash away the humiliation, the memory of standing soaked and shivering while they watched from above.
When I stepped out, steam fogged the mirror. I wiped a circle with my palm and looked at myself.
Tired but not defeated.
I opened the closet. My clothes...once neatly organized, now shoved to one side to make room for Emily’s endless designer pieces...felt foreign. I hadn’t worn anything nice in weeks. Hadn’t wanted to. What was the point when every day fe
