The apartment light flickered.
Just once.
But it was enough to make the police officers reach for their belts.
And then, the tall officer murmured something that pierced me deeper than any absence, any abandonment.
“Miss Reed… our body cameras aren’t picking up your face.”
Or my face.
Or my silhouette.
Or anything.
Just… empty space.
Behind me, slowly, the diploma, still wrapped in plastic, fell to the floor of its own weight.
And it sounded like a thud in an apartment where, suddenly, I understood that perhaps the only thing I’d never had… was a real place to call myself.
to be continued soon …”
