The Weight We Carry - THE BATHROOM FLOOR

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Amara sat on the cold bathroom tiles, knees drawn to her chest.

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The shower was still running, steam ghosting around her, but she hadn’t stepped in.

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She just sat there, shivering in her tank top and shorts.

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Her phone buzzed on the sink. She ignored it.

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Water ran down the drain in wasteful gallons.

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She was so tired she couldn’t even turn the tap off.

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Her breathing was ragged.

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> Get up, she told herself. Just stand up.

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She didn’t move.

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She let the tears fall instead.

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They were hot against her freezing skin.

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When she finally reached up and shut the water off, the silence was deafening.

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She stayed on the floor another hour before s

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he crawled out of the room.

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