Risa was gone. Dead. A deep cleft cracked open somewhere in my heart, letting new pain pour into my chest until the pressure ached behind my sternum. I wanted to cry, and scream, and thrash, and wail, but I… didn’t. Instead, I remained so still, breathing down each onslaught of hysteria with paced gasps. Exhale. Don’t cry, Galantia. Inhale. Don’t cry, Galantia. Exhale. Don’t you fucking cry, Galantia!
