Clara
The air on the rooftop is different, here it was fresh and liberating, but now it feels raw.
As if it had no filters, as if there were no walls that soften anything.
And right now... That's all I need.
I step out without looking back, pushing the door harder than necessary. The metallic sound is lost behind me, but it can't break the noise inside me.
I walk from one side to the other. Aimlessly, without pause.
My heels set the rhythm against the ground, constant, dry. As if that sound could organize something inside my head... but it doesn't.
Nothing does.
I exhale hard, running a hand through my hair.
"It wasn't that bad..." I murmured.
But I don't believe it. Not entirely, because that's not what they said.
It's how they said it, it's the way they looked at me.
The way
