Gemotions

"It's just… it feels like they stole a part of me," she choked out, fighting back tears. Her voice was hoarse, her throat raw. The magazine, with its deceptively bright cover, lay on the table between them, a tangible representation of her loss.

Her best friend, Ben, reached out, his hand hovering near hers, unsure of what to say. She couldn't meet his gaze; the shame was too overwhelming. She stared at the tabletop, at the intricate patterns of the wood grain, searching for something, anything, to anchor her in this chaotic moment. The world, at that moment, felt tilted on its axis.