𝘾𝙀𝙊. - 𝘾𝙀𝙊 𝙓 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍

1.

━━━

One breath, then another.

I remind myself to inhale, and exhale, over, and over again.

The cooling, office air-con's breeze prickles the hairs of my skin, spiking to the sensation as my nail's move across the keyboard at my office desk repetitively. 

It's a soothing, meditating rhythm that I enjoy, the most out of this job.

I take in the senses. 

I see my computer, the miniature pot plant gifted to me with little thought but with the greatest appreciation by a co-worker, my white keyboard, my rigid hands.

I smell coffee, fresh, lingering within the air-con circulated breeze, along with printed paper and different, light perfumes dotting the atmosphere.

I hear tapping. So much tapping, in every direction, from every single office cubicle and station. Nails working endlessly, voices light and sudsy against the harsh clank of printers occupied. 

The same, familiar, relentless environment.

Another breath. 

"Y/N- did you email those finance reports to me yet?"

My head flicks before my eyes follow, snapping towards the sight of my co-worker, Leila, who stands beside my office table. 

Leila.

She's a lovely co-worker, a lovely friend, a lovely girl. Young, around the same age as I am; she's naturally beautiful. 

That's the first thing to notice of her. 

She's beautiful, with the natural corners and contours to be envious of, with a personality just as saccharine. 

And when she attempts to speak to me, my words bubble from my throat, catching and climbing with a struggle and a reluctance.

My lips part, my speech catching at the back of my mouth as I feel my sentence choke.

"I-I... yes,"

Barely beyond a whisper, unreliable and still as mortifying as it's lingered to be.

It's uncontrollable, and frankly, the biggest and most undesirable trait I have been the one to be blessed with. 

It's as if everything I would like to say, hesitates and suffocates backwards, and I end up riddled with humiliation and the regret of even, simply being. 

And I would question to myself, was this inevitable, or simply avoidable if I were given the chance.

To my case, unfortunately inevitable.

My parents were never overly financially stable.

That was the first, and main form of credibility for how I am to be now.

We'd often question whether the bills would be paid with money we'd have left over.

It was not easy, it never was. But it taught me to accommodate, to think prominently and appreciate what I have, even if it wasn't truly enough. 

And what wasn't enough, was my speech development. 

I knew something was off, incorrect, even at the youngest age. I would stammer and stutter within my words, and I couldn't speak above a mumble; I felt as though I'd have to forcibly vomit my words out without willing control. 

Speech therapy was not a choice for me, it wasn't a considerable necessity to my parent's due to our financial instability. 

And that meant I had no choice but to suffice with my obvious speech impediments, even if that meant I'd be considered to be intellectually behind.