The morning came quietly.
Too quietly.
It didn't arrive with sound, or movement, or even light that felt real.
It simply… existed.
Like something that had no choice but to continue.
Jory opened her eyes slowly.
Not because she was ready to wake up.
But because staying asleep had become harder than facing the day.
For a moment, she didn't move.
Her body lay still, as if it was waiting for instructions.
Waiting to understand if it was safe.
Waiting to understand if anything had changed.
But nothing had.
The air inside the tent felt heavier than usual.
Not from heat.
Not from cold.
But from something that had stayed behind.
Something that had happened… and refused to leave.
Jory turned her head slightly.
Her little sister was still asleep.
Curled into herself.
One hand gripping the edge of the blanket.
As if even in sleep… she was holding on to something.
Jory watched her for a long moment.
There was a time when she would have smiled at that.
A time when small things like this felt soft.
Now…
they felt fragile.
Like something that could disappear at any second.
She sat up slowly.
Every movement felt heavier.
Not in her body.
But in her chest.
As if something inside her had been placed there overnight.
Something that wasn't there before.
Her mother was awake.
Sitting in the same place.
The same position.
As if she hadn't moved at all.
Her eyes were open.
But not focused.
Jory didn't speak.
She had learned that mornings like this didn't need words.
Words would only make things real.
And some things…
were already too real.
She stood up.
Pushed the fabric of the tent slightly.
And stepped outside.
The world had changed.
Not in the way it had changed yesterday.
Not violently.
Not suddenly.
But quietly.
Deeply.
The camp looked the same.
The same tents.
The same ground.
The same paths.
But everything felt…
emptier.
As if something had been taken from it.
Not physically.
But something you couldn't replace.
The sounds were different.
There were no loud voices.
No early conversations.
No movement that felt alive.
People walked slowly.
Carefully.
As if they were afraid of making too much noise.
As if the silence itself might break.
Jory stepped forward.
Her feet moved automatically.
Following a path she had walked many times before.
But today…
it didn't feel like the same place.
She passed by a group of people sitting together.
No one was talking.
They weren't looking at each other.
They weren't doing anything.
Just sitting.
As if they were waiting for something.
Or someone.
Jory didn't stop.
She couldn't.
Because she already knew.
Waiting…
didn't always end with something.
Sometimes…
it just continued.
She reached a place she didn't want to reach.
But her body brought her there anyway.
Lina's tent.
Or what remained of it.
It was still broken.
Still open.
Still…
unchanged.
No one had fixed it.
No one had moved it.
Because some things were not meant to be repaired.
Jory stopped.
Her breath slowed.
Her eyes didn't move.
She didn't step closer this time.
She didn't need to.
Because she already knew what was there.
And knowing…
was enough.
A small piece of cloth moved slightly with the wind.
That was the only movement.
The only sign that time was still passing.
Jory felt something rise in her chest.
Not tears.
Not yet.
Something else.
Something deeper.
Something that didn't know how to come out.
She turned away.
Slowly.
Carefully.
As if turning too fast might pull something with her.
She walked back.
Not toward the tent.
Not toward her mother.
But toward the space between everything.
Where she didn't have to see.
Where she didn't have to remember clearly.
She sat down.
On the ground.
Her hands resting in her lap.
Her fingers slightly curled.
She looked at them.
For a long time.
As if she expected them to do something.
As if she expected them to fix something.
But they didn't move.
They didn't change anything.
They were just…
there.
And that was when it hit her.
Not like yesterday.
Not loud.
Not sudden.
But quiet.
Clear.
Unavoidable.
Lina wasn't coming back.
Not later.
Not tomorrow.
Not ever.
Jory closed her eyes.
Just for a moment.
But inside that moment—
everything came back.
The voice.
The laugh.
The words:
"Draw me flying."
Her chest tightened.
Her breath caught.
And this time—
the tears came again.
Slow.
Silent.
Heavy.
Not like before.
Not uncontrollable.
But deeper.
As if they came from somewhere far inside her.
She didn't wipe them away.
She didn't try to stop them.
Because now…
she understood something.
Crying didn't change anything.
But not crying…
didn't change anything either.
So she let them fall.
One after the other.
Until there were no more left.
And even then…
the feeling stayed.
Jory opened her eyes again.
The world in front of her was the same.
Unchanged.
But she wasn't.
Something inside her had settled.
Not healed.
Not fixed.
But settled.
Like something that had found its place.
Even if it didn't belong there.
She took a slow breath.
Then another.
And slowly…
she stood up.
Because the day had started.
Even if it didn't feel like it.
Even if nothing inside her wanted it to.
The day…
never waits.
And neither does the world.