Ximena's POV
The television screen bathed my living room in shifting blues and yellows, casting shadows that danced across the walls while canned laughter echoed from some mindless reality show. Couples screamed at each other on a beach somewhere tropical, their drama playing out in high definition while I curled deeper into the couch cushions. I wasn't really watching anymore. The noise just filled the silence that threatened to let my thoughts creep back in.
My textbooks lay scattered across the coffee table like abandoned soldiers. Calculus equations I couldn't solve stared back at me. A history essay with a blank document still open on my laptop. Chemistry formulas I'd been supposed to memorize hours ago. I kept telling myself I'd tackle it all after this episode ended, but the truth burned in my stomach like acid. I didn't want to study. Studying meant focusing, and focusing meant remembering.
