The city feels too bright for the way my chest aches.

I drive with no direction, no plan, no idea of where I’m supposed to go. The wheel vibrates faintly under my palms, and even though the Jesko hums like silk against asphalt, my heartbeat is loud and shaky, too uneven. Everything outside the windows blurs into a mix of colors signboards, people laughing on sidewalks, buses speeding past, the normal life of normal people who don’t have fathers like mine or husbands like Santino or secrets ...