Morgen ALL FALLS DOWN Soft music drifts through the room – quiet, ambient. Expensive crystal clinks, one glass against another. Strains of conversation and laughter mingle in the perfumed air. It's warm… too warm. I swallow convulsively. Take a deep breath. You can do this, I chant to myself. It's become my motto in the last few days, playing like a single verse of song stuck on repeat. Sometimes, I actually believe it. I don't right now. My stomach feels sour, my throat too tight. The expensive heels I've donned are stuck to the floor as if made of lead. I feel like a fraud. An imposter. I want to run. I coach myself to smile instead. Smile… just smile. My cheeks ache, my lips pulled back from my teeth in a show of faux-happiness. Inside, I'm crying. Screaming. Dying. Movement across the room catches my attention and freezes my blood.
