But I can't be speaking.
I saw the signs—the cracks in her facade, the vacant stares, the trembling hands. I noticed, but I said nothing.
Was it fear? Ignorance? Or the hope someone else would step in?
She fought alone, and for a moment, she won. But the weight came crashing back.
Caught in the Nick of time. Or maybe too late.
Now we ask why, though we know the answer. We didn’t ask the right questions. And I’m left wondering if I’ll ever speak when it matters most.