jaehwany: The room turned gray, then white. The bed felt cold without him, and too large. I heard no

jaehwany: The room turned gray, then white. The bed felt cold without him, and too large. I heard no
jaehwany: The room turned gray, then white. The bed felt cold without him, and too large. I heard no
jaehwany: The room turned gray, then white. The bed felt cold without him, and too large. I heard no
jaehwany: The room turned gray, then white. The bed felt cold without him, and too large. I heard no
jaehwany: The room turned gray, then white. The bed felt cold without him, and too large. I heard no
jaehwany: The room turned gray, then white. The bed felt cold without him, and too large. I heard no
jaehwany: The room turned gray, then white. The bed felt cold without him, and too large. I heard no
jaehwany: The room turned gray, then white. The bed felt cold without him, and too large. I heard no

jaehwany: The room turned gray, then white. The bed felt cold without him, and too large. I heard no sounds, and the stillness frightened me. It is like a tomb. I rose and rubbed my limbs, slapped them awake, trying to ward off a rising hysteria. This is what it will be, every day, without him. I felt a wild-eyed tightness in my chest, like a scream. Every day, without him.– MADELINE MILLER, THE SONG OF ACHILLES (insp.) -- source link

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