Lila
I stepped out of the shower feeling a little more human. The hot water had washed away some of the salt from my tears, but it couldn’t touch the ache in my chest. I dried off slowly, slipped into my soft pajamas — the ones with the tiny stars pattern that always made me feel small and safe — and climbed into bed. The sheets were cool against my skin. I pulled the covers up to my chin and reached for my phone on the nightstand.
It was finally charged. The screen lit up with notifications. Missed calls from Mom. A few texts. I opened the call log first and tapped her name.
It rang twice before she answered.
“Hey dear,” Mom said. Her voice was warm but worried.
“Hey,” I replied. My own voice sounded small.
“Why was your phone off today?”
“Sorry. Forgot to charge it.”
“It’s fine,”
