Truthfully, Atlantic City really was beautiful.
You could feel it most out there near the sea, with the weather staying mild even toward evening, the beach stretched wide, and the sky burning itself down into that soft blue-orange light that made everything look calmer than it really was. It was a different kind of city than New York. Back there, with Mom, it had always been buildings stacked on buildings, glass, concrete, traffic, noise filling every gap until you forgot what open space looked like. That had its own charm, sure. But this? This felt real in a way the rest never did.
If Elena and Alisha were here, if they hadn't been taken away, if they were still with us, I probably would've stayed.
Honestly, I know I would have.
With everyone together, with the ocean right there, with nights like this and the kind of people you somehow got used to despite everything, I could've pictured it. Staying. Making something out of this place.
But I couldn't.
