The sun rose, but Christopher didn’t see it.
He was still in the same spot he’d been in all night-on the floor, knees aching, back hunched, Lucy’s pink sweater crushed against his face like it could breathe for him.
Like it could rewind time and fill the house with her laughter again. But it didn’t. It smelled like strawberry shampoo and a trace of bubblegum, and it was fading. Her scent was fading.
He hadn’t slept in days.
Not since the party.
Not since that final glimpse of her turning the corner with a smile.
Not since the world caved in.
His suit was soaked in sweat. Wrinkled. Unrecognizable. His tie was gone, ripped off in some moment of rage he couldn’t even remember.
His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, The stubble on his jaw had thickened into a harsh beard, and beneat
