Press enter or click to view image in full size Photo by Art Institute of Chicago on Unsplash The morning call to prayer floated through the open window just as Sara pressed her palms against the bathroom sink. The tile was cool beneath her bare feet, but her chest burned like something inside was trying to claw its way out. She hadn’t slept. Again. She lifted her toothbrush, but her hand trembled. In the mirror, her face looked strangely unfamiliar — puffy eyes, tight jaw, that dull flatness she’d been trying to hide for months. A stranger wearing her skin. From downstairs came the clatter of spoons and her mother’s bright voice. “Breakfast is ready!” Sara forced herself upright. Smile. You’re fine. The same lines she’d been repeating since childhood. Don’t make anyone uncomfortable. Don’t bring sadness to the table. Don’t become a burden. Her thumb hovered over her phone. Coffee today? My treat? she typed to her friends — the fourth time this month she’d made plans she wasn’t sure she could actually keep.…