Perhaps it is the act of writing or the beauty of words that drew me back here to seek solace from this rough start to the new year.
It had been a tiring day managing toddler meltdowns. I found myself sprawled on my underutilized sofa staring blankly into nothingness, while waiting for the opportunity to drown out the noises with the splashes of my routine night showers.
Doom-scrolling led me to realize that the series finale of Stranger Things was released, and the work enclave of my built-in wardrobe was masterfully turned into a weekend cinema with the dousing of the lights.
...
My phone beamed in the darkness with a call from my Dad. At this age, every call from our parents make our heart stop for a microsecond. I picked up the call, already bothered by a matrix of bad possibilities that would surface. It wasn't good news, certainly not how I hoped the night would go.
...