Literature
Always
It was impossibly late and yet Rachel could still hear Santana and Kurt and who knows who else celebrating in the living room over their first sold out performance.
She really had wanted to celebrate with them, but there was something off, she needed to be alone. She needed sleep and yet, sleep would not, could not come for her.
She’d promised herself she wouldn’t cry anymore. Where crying came so easily to her had now become the impossible. She hadn’t cried since she had come back from McKinley for the funeral.
The constant emptiness, the dulling sorrow, the moving on of life. The music to her ears had disappeared. Who w