She woke up to another painful sunshine, another typical day of fray, a morning of defeat and hesitations. Although it’s always been a routine for as long as she can remember, she struggled to get out of bed, she looked at the clock sitting peacefully on her bedside table, 8:30 it said, sighing deeply, she made her way to the window, the ray of sunlight sliding through her, striking her barely there consciousness, blinding her sight of the world much like the reality of her life, too bright, too beautiful, too promising yet she had no idea where to go, or if she ever did belong.


“Myra! Come down here and grab some breakfast!”


Her mother’s voice echoed from the kitchen snapping her out from unsaid sentiments. She tardily went downstairs counting her steps, letting out a bored yawn, worried about what’s in store for her today.

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