The room felt colder after she left.
I didn't know how that was possible, because the air had already been freezing, already heavy enough to make breathing feel like work. But somehow… it got worse.
Maybe it was because I had seen her.
My baby.
So close.
Close enough to touch.
Close enough to hear her cry.
But not close enough to hold.
My fingers curled weakly against the sheets as if my body still believed she was there, as if I could still reach out and pull her into my arms.
Empty.
Everything felt empty.
My chest.
My arms.
My body.
Even my thoughts felt hollow, like they were echoing inside a space that had been stripped of everything that mattered.
I turned my head slightly, staring at the wall.
I needed to think.
I needed to stay awake.
If I slept, I would dream of her.
And waking up would only make it worse.
But my body didn't listen to me anymore.
It hadn't for a long time.
