I wiped my face and picked up my florist badge.
And suddenly, I knew what I needed to do.
I stood before the mirror for a few more seconds, hands still trembling.
Part of me wanted to leave.
Another part wanted to find Adrian and demand answers.
But neither felt possible anymore.
He had watched me bury him.
His mother had held my hand while I cried.
Someone arranged a funeral.
Someone buried a coffin.
People brought food to my apartment and sat beside me while I stared at walls.
