Emily
I don’t cry until I get to my office.
Then I close the door, collapse on the floor, and let it all out.
I cry for what could have been.
I cry for what can never be.
I cry for her, and for me, and for us, and then I stop.
No one hears me. No one comes to the door. No one knocks. No one needs me. Right now, it’s just me and the solitude of my space, and that’s important. I need this time to grieve. I need this time to let things go because if I don’t grieve right now, I’m going to lose myself, my mind, everything.
So I stay where I am, and I cry just a little bit more.