Threads Unraveling
Constant static—that was the only way to describe it. Like a radio not tuned quite right. The sound was there, the words were there, but muffled, blurred. Every day felt like that. The world hazy yet unbearably loud. A rushing in her head drowned out everything else until her life became little more than a dim outline. She stood at the window, watching her children leave. Mae’s golden hair was loosely braided, strands slipping free and brushing her shoulders. Elenor sighed. She should have noticed sooner, should have fixed it. But the static swallowed her attention. Her firstborn blurred like everything else, no more than a fuzzy hum in her weary mind. She prayed no one else noticed. What sort of mother let her eight-year-old braid her own hair for school? She could already hear the whispers of the other women—unfit, neglectful. They didn’t know. It wasn’t that she didn’t care. She loved her children fiercely. But most days it felt impossible to really see them through the fog. Her che...