Alessia
The headache started as a dull throb behind my eyes sometime after midnight, the kind that no amount of water or rest could touch. It felt like too many questions had taken up permanent residence in my skull, all of them scratching for attention at once.
My father's face kept surfacing in the dark, his tired eyes, the way his shoulders had always seemed weighed down by things he never spoke about. I rolled over again, the sheets twisting around my legs, and stared at the ceiling until the shadows started to move on their own.
I threw the covers off and sat up, the cool air from the open window raising goosebumps along my bare arms. Moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains in strips, painting the room in shades of silver and gray.
