Taken Too Soon

She was here. And then she wasn't.
And the world kept spinning like it didn't notice she was gone.
They never got to say goodbye.
Kimmy's name still lingers in the air like a song no one finishes.
Her room is exactly the same-untouched, as if she's coming back.
But she's not.
Jenna, her mother, smiles for everyone except herself.
She folds laundry with tears she hides in the dryer's hum.
Daniel, her father, hasn't cried.
He just... stares. As if feeling nothing might hurt less than feeling everything.
Carter, her twin, is a storm with no calm.
He screams at the sky, because she should still be under it.
Michael, the boy who loved her, rewrites their last conversation every night.
In all of them, she lives.
And Macy-Macy can't forgive herself.
Because she was there. Because she wasn't enough.
This isn't a story about death.
It's about what's left behind.
The way grief doesn't knock before it enters.
The way it unpacks its bags and never really leaves.
The way you learn to live with a ghost whose laugh you can't quite remember anymore.
Some will find light again.
Others won't.
But every single one of them will carry the weight of her absence like a second skin.
Because when someone is taken too soon,
the world doesn't break all at once.
It breaks in quiet places.
Over and over again.