

On moving day, my parents gave the biggest, brightest room to my sister and crammed me into the attic. Over the years, our homes grew larger and larger—but there was never a place for me. They always said next time. I waited until my heart died waiting. So I left. Later, they searched for me like mad. But some things, once broken, can never be glued back together. And some hearts, once frozen cold, can never be warmed again.
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