My eyes widen on that harrowing truth, staring broken, swollen, sore, at the leather sofa against the far wall. All the fairy-tales I have told myself, the moments where I twisted the crumbs of affection into mountains, where I accepted handing over the popcorn as a sign of love, where I saw a dreamcatcher as a visual representation that my mum cared... It. All. Fractures.
