*Olivia*

I stared blankly at the kitchen wall, rotating my wrist constantly as I stirred the frying pan I’d placed on the stove. I didn’t even remember what I had thrown in there, much less whether it was done or not.

Dazed, I was on the verge of dissociating as I waited for the food to cook. Half my mind knew that Maria always made breakfast, and the other half was certain I had to do this myself. In the middle were a bunch of thoughts my exhausted ...