Even in silence my heart was loud. It spoke through the tremble in my breath through the pause between words I never said. You weren’t just a memory you were the moment I froze the shadow in a room full of light the reason I feared my own voice. They didn’t believe me. So I learned to believe in myself. My stories stayed tucked in corners like unopened letters but my heart kept reading them out loud. Now when I speak I speak for the girl who couldn’t. I speak because my heart remembered when the world forgot.

One glass, then another—time drowns in amber tides. The body bends, the cycle brews, unbroken again.

Time slips away—light for me, heavy for them. The scale tilts under the weight of commitments, yet I endure.

"Key-Kee!" Nadine echoed, her tiny hands gripping the floor as she crawled forward, her voice bubbling with excitement. "No, it is Kit-Ty," Harold corrected, shaking his head. "She says it wrong. She is still a baby," Elise said gently. "Meow, meow… meowww," Nadine mimicked the family cat, her tiny frame wiggling like a kitten in play. Eli dropped to his hands and knees beside her. "Meowww!" he exaggerated, scrunching his nose and wiggling his fingers like whiskers. "Ugh, this is ridiculous," Harold groaned. As Nadine moved, the soft fur of her costume brushed against her arms, keeping her warm against the cool fall air. She did not know it yet, but this was something she would carry forever. Her orange-striped costume tail flicked behind her. It was her first Halloween, the night she would start transforming into something more. Later, as shadows stretched across the walls, she whispered her first sign of something greater. "Here, Key-Kee."

"The melody of ‘Jesus Loves the Little Children’ drifted through the quiet church, each note steady beneath Yara’s fingertips. No one noticed how her back stiffened, how her breath caught just slightly before she pressed forward, playing through the sharp waves of pain. The music continued, but time itself seemed to slow. It wasn’t time. Not yet."