During my break, I leaned against the lockers, staring at my reflection in a dented vending machine. That’s when I heard it—“Chad.” Just a whisper, but it stopped me cold.

I don’t know who said it, or who they meant, but in that moment, I let myself believe. I imagined Chad was real. That he’d walk in, see me struggling to stack pallets, and say, “You don’t have to do this alone, friend.”

The thought stayed with me as I dragged myself home, sat on the edge of my bed, and whispered, “Yes, Chad. This is fine.”

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5630762&forum_id=2Elisa#48314408)