I saw her, you know, the young mother, on the park bench. Kid asleep in the stroller, all those other parents with their goddamn lattes and their easy banter, like they were born knowing the secret handshake. She was just… adrift. A little like a ship caught in the doldrums, sail flapping uselessly while the current pulls her nowhere. I mean I don't even — whatever. The sound of the playground, all that shrill joy and plastic scraping, it just swallowed her right up. You could see the anhedonia, plain as day, just sitting there in her shoulders, the way she kept her eyes fixed on the stroller like it was a goddamn life raft. Paid my dues for that feeling, the absolute fucking isolation of it, watching the world move on without you while you're tethered to a silent anchor.