One thing that I will always remember about the morning my dad was killed is that I was eating a chocolate croissant, and drinking an earl grey with almond milk when I found out. Before his death, for the six months or so that I worked at Pratt while my dad was alive, that was my special treat. I used to go to the little cafe across the street and get those once or twice a week, if I was feeling down, or low in energy, around 10:30 in the morning. I was so excited to be earning a salary (38k a year felt like a lot of money after spending six months underemployed and making sandwiches) that I was able to let myself buy my special morning treat sometimes, even if I couldn’t let myself buy lunch.
💔 and ❤️
❤️🩹 I love you, Malamae!!