I wish I could afford to be distracted like the guy playing Wordle on his MacBook Pro oblivious to the documentary on gender-based violence on the massive screen twenty feet from his head Instead I’m clenching my fingers around a ballpoint pen and poking tiny holes in my paper, some small acupuncture tingling legs and bloodless feet that don’t feel the floor below them trying to pray, but I’m so lost, I can’t find God though I know He’s everywhere, including this room, watching me tremble and shaking his head at how mankind could be wicked enough to bring a girl to this complete petrification