My world had always felt like a place where I belonged. Now, it felt tight and ill-fitting. I suffocated at the constricting pressure of it, trying to cram myself back into a box where I no longer fit. The tears came harder the farther I got from the mortuary, coupled with a bone-gnawing guilt. Because I wasn’t crying for the loss of Carlos… I was crying because still I felt virtually nothing when I thought of never seeing him again. I was crying because instead of grieving the dead man in my arms, I grieved the loss of the one who killed him.
