The first sound she noticed was the whisper of voices—soft, pleading, familiar.
"Mama… Papa…" she murmured, barely above a breath. Her eyes fluttered open in the dark, shadows stretching across the walls of her neat apartment.
Tears traced silent paths down her cheeks as she curled tighter under the covers. She could almost hear them calling her name, their laughter from years ago.
"Don't cry… I'm right here…" Her voice cracked as if speaking to ghosts. "I miss you."
Then came a sudden, shrill beep—harsh and relentless.
"BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP."
The alarm clock on her nightstand blared, cutting through the illusion of voices and memories. Her eyes snapped open, pupils wide with a mix of grief and irritation.
A sob threatened to escape, but she pressed her palms to her face, wiping it away.
"It's fine… just a dream," she whispered, shaking her head. "Just a stupid dream."
She slammed a hand onto the alarm, silencing it. The room fell into stillness again, but the remnants of the dream clung to her like mist.
Swinging her legs over the bed, she muttered, "Time to get up. Can't be late… can't screw this up."
Padding to the bathroom, the tiles cold beneath her feet, she turned on the shower. Steam curled around her as water drummed against her shoulders. She murmured to herself, almost conversationally, "I'll do better today… I have to."
Despite being twenty-one, she looked more like a child, her limbs thin and delicate, her stature unassuming, as if she could be mistaken for someone barely out of high school. The water slid down her body, warming her skin, washing away sleep but not the ache beneath her ribs.
"That dream again…" she whispered, closing her eyes as the spray hit her face. "The fifth time this month already. What do you want from me?"
She wrapped a towel around herself, her hair tied up messily, a few damp strands sticking to the back of her neck.
At the sink, she squeezed paste onto her toothbrush, leaning closer to the mirror as she brushed. Foam gathered at the corners of her mouth as her gaze flicked down, taking in her own reflection—her thin wrists, the slight dip of her collarbone, the way her shoulders looked narrow beneath the towel. She traced the water droplets sliding along her arms and whispered to the mirror, "Always so small…"
"Twenty-one, and I still look like this," she mumbled around the brush, the words muffled. Her eyes narrowed, not quite angry, more weary. "No wonder people never take me seriously."
She spat, rinsed, and forced herself to look away.
After brushing her teeth, she dressed, sliding into her uniform with careful precision. She adjusted her cap, draped her coat over her shoulders, and moved with deliberate, practiced motions—as if the entire morning were a performance, and she had to convince the world she was unshakable.
she made her way to the living room, where the television had been left on overnight. The glow cast long, flickering shadows across the neat apartment. She reached for the remote and switched it off—but a headline caught her eye just before the screen went dark:
"Another seal has been killed in broad daylight—"
Her hand froze for a heartbeat, then slammed the remote down, plunging the room into silence. Her heart thudded in her chest, her eyes widening.
"Deep breath… you can't think about it now," she muttered, voice thin. For a moment her gaze went unfocused, the room a blur, until she blinked rapidly to clear it. She forced herself to exhale evenly, brushing the news from her mind as if it were nothing.
"Calm down. You see this every day," she reminded herself softly. Her hand closed around her keys, the gesture brisk, practiced. "It's work. Nothing more."
She forced her shoulders square and slipped her coat tighter over them, as though the uniform itself could seal away the tremor beneath her ribs.
She moved toward the door, pausing for a fraction of a second to sweep her gaze over the tidy apartment. Silent, pristine, it seemed indifferent to the storm she carried inside.
"See you later…" she whispered softly, as if to the empty rooms themselves. The soft thud echoed in the still air, leaving the apartment empty but for its quiet witness to the girl who had already put her sorrow away.
The door clicked shut behind her.