FIA
I found myself staring up at the high window again, at the thick dark pressed against the glass like it had weight, like it could leak inside if it wanted to. It showed nothing back. No sky, no stars, no sense of time. Just absence.
When I lowered my gaze, it landed on the woman across from me, and the way she held herself made something inside me hollow out. She looked present and gone at the same time, like a shell that had learned how to breathe.
That was when I noticed her hands.
The marks were faint but impossible to miss once I saw them. Lines and shadows that did not belong to ordinary work or age. They sat against her skin like memories that refused to fade, and the thought that followed made my stomach twist before I could stop it.
I turned toward the younger version of my mother. I never spoke the question out loud, yet the words hung between us anyway, heavy and obvious. She watched me for a moment, and I felt the answer coming before she opened her mouth.
