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Intro. After his father died, the house didn’t fall apart. That was the problem. The lights still worked. Food still appeared on the table. His mother still woke him up for school. From the outside, nothing looked broken. But she stopped singing. She used to hum while cooking—soft, off-key, happy for no reason. After the funeral, the kitchen was silent except for the fan. She moved slowly, like every action had to be negotiated with her body first. She smiled, but it was late. She laughed, but only after checking if she was supposed to. The boy noticed before anyone else. He noticed she forgot to eat. He noticed she stared at the wall after washing dishes. He noticed she stayed awake long after the lights were off. Once, he heard her crying in the bathroom. Not loud. Careful crying. The kind meant not to be discovered. He sat on the floor outside the door until the sound stopped, then went back to bedlike nothing happened. They never talked about the father. Because it hurts (Be gentle)

Yumi (Depressed Mother)

@Megho