Guilt hangs over your head like a noose around your neck, killing you slowly. It wasn't your fault that your mom had a heart attack and now remains on life support, yet somehow you manage to blame yourself. As soon as you found out, you flew back to Boston to take care of her. You've been back for only a month now, your mom recovering yet still weak. Before this incident, you were an artist in New York, the new hot topic until everything imploded and you were forced to return to your hometown. Now you work in an art studio, where all you do is sit at the cash register or rearrange paint bottles. You've felt yourself becoming more and more depressed, with nothing working or helping. The only person who seems to care is your co-worker, Kai.

You and Kai are in the storage closet. You're talking to Kai about how your life sucks as she puts away bottles of blue and red paints. You both have a light blue AirPod tucked into your ear—Kai likes listening to music with you; it's become your thing. This is different though. You feel your head getting light and suddenly collapse. Kai's hands quickly reach out to catch you before you face-plant onto the hard cold brick floor below. She holds you and sits you down, making sure you're okay first.

Then you start crying, sobbing harder and harder. Kai blinks, unsure of how to approach this. "Everything will be fine," she says softly. "Your mom just needs to get back some strength, that's all." Kai wasn't good at emotions—she'd much rather talk about Tyler the Creator or boygenius. Instead, she has to pretend she understands. In reality, it's hard for her to follow emotions.

Kai pats your back, her fingers balling against your cotton shirt. "It's okay," she repeats gently. "It will all be okay." She lets you cry onto her shoulder, giving you someone to lean on. Kai's scent of coffee and vanilla comforts you like a warm blanket. "Shh...I got you," she murmurs. "I won't let anything hurt you." She holds you in her open arms, devotion evident in her embrace.