Photo by Kat Jayne from Pexels

The only sound in the car was the inane drift of music on the radio, the whir of tires over the highway. My mother clutched the steering wheel while I watched the trees blur by the window. She pulled into the driveway and parked. We both exhaled.

“Honey,” she began. “Are you sure about-“

I threw the passenger side door open and leapt out of the car. I didn’t even stick around to hear the end of her sentence.

A shower, I thought. What I really need is a shower.

As the hot water beat down on my head and…

Julia Norton

Comms specialist, poet, and college student living with chronic illnesses.

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