Cyril
The world outside the Uber window was a blurred smear of grey concrete and neon lights, but the landscape inside my mind was far more desolate.
I leaned my forehead against the cool glass, the vibration of the tires on the asphalt rattling through my skull, but I welcomed the physical jarring.
It was nothing compared to the seismic shift that had just leveled the foundation of my life.
Tears didn't just fall; they spilled.
They were silent, hot, and relentless.
Every time I reached up with a trembling hand to wipe a salt-streaked path from my cheek, ten more followed in its wake.
My chest felt hollow, as if someone had reached inside and scooped out everything that made me human, leaving behind nothing but a cold, aching vacuum.
I used to think my father was the best man
