is a cataclysmic experience in a young girl’s heart.
she is lost in the nostalgia of simpler times
wide-eyed to the small pleasures she never thought she’d miss.
so easy to fall back into place.
but she has since realized she no longer fits in a space so small.
so she stands at the window of her bedroom
drinking coffee. black.
she smells of melancholy and self destruction
salted cheeks and wine-coloured eyes
watching the sun rise.
the guilt she felt while gone has since washed away.
replaced by the overflowing sorrow
of having to play a dead version of herself.
she knows playing an old, dead version is a lot easier
than watching those you love murder that which is just now emerging
so, standing in the house she frequents every few months
she gets ready for the day
ready for the forced smiles
nice words and apologies she must deliver.
she must make up for not being home.
she must pay for her absence,
for it is her duty to make sure everything runs well.
she must deliver half-truths
but knows the terrain well enough.
she is simply trying to survive.
trying to get back
away from home.
Kaycee Portillo-Sorto’25
