You jog down the stairs, nose runny as your brain scrambles to find any valid reason on why not to cry. When you finally stop in your tracks as you reach the ground floor, your dad calls from the living room, phone in his comically large, yet chubby hands, probably scrolling through instagram

“You okay, kid? You’ve been in your room the whole day.” He asks, eyes still glued onto the phone yet his tone carrying a lace of concern