All Squirrel needed, what she kept telling herself, was for the world to stop spinning for just one little second so she catch her breath. On really bad days, she’d listen to shitty alternative rock from the 90’s and wonder if that shallow, stabbing pain in her heart was nostalgia or her blood vessels exploding.
Probably neither, she decided, stirring her vanilla yogurt with a plastic spoon she found on someone’s desk. New diet. She was starving. At least work wasn’t busy. She scrolled through her messages again, and didn’t reply, again.
Her little sister was getting married next weekend.