Laying on my bedroom floor felt like nothing.
Until my father opened the door and watched me in silence. I was unaware of his presence until I heard his voice.
“Honey, I think you’re depressed,” he whispered.
I strained my neck and eyes to look up at him as he towered over me. Statuesque.
No words came, so I allowed my neck muscles to release until I felt the plush carpet against my left cheek.
He turned around and walked out, closing the door quietly behind him.
I melted into the carpet for another three hours.
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