You’re different now
There’s a strange, hollow feeling that comes over you when you walk back into your house after being part of something tragic. It’s disorienting, like stepping into a world that hasn’t caught up to the weight of what just happened. The walls are the same. The furniture sits undisturbed. The coffee mug you left on the counter that morning is still there, waiting. But you’re not the same. You carry it with you—the sights, the sounds, the moments that unfolded. You sit...