I fall to the ground on the bathroom floor, screaming and crying. I don’t remember how or why, but I push myself up and rush down the long hallway toward the entrance of the building. The few people left at work stare, confused. It’s a lot of emotion for 5 o’clock on a Thursday. Once outside, it’s jarring to see that the world is still moving. People are doing all of the things they normally do in rush hour traffic: driving, honking, foolishly texting, making frustrated hand gestures. It’s a beautiful day. Tragedy always seems to strike on a beautiful day.