Connecting the Dots

***Marcella***

Sitting across from Kaelen at the local diner brought a strange sense of calm. The smell of greasy hash browns and burnt coffee hung in the air. Waitresses carried heavy trays of food past our sticky vinyl booth, oblivious to the absolute chaos my life had become. The clatter of silverware and the low hum of morning chatter should have been ordinary, but my stomach was tied in knot