Being Stacey!
being Stacey! There are moments in life when everything changes quietly — no thunder, no warning, no dramatic ending. Just silence, and then nothing is the same again. For Stacey, it happened on a humid July evening. Her father’s shoes still sat by the door, muddy from work. The TV was still on, her mother was still humming in the kitchen — and then the phone rang. She didn’t remember dropping the plate. She didn’t remember sitting on the floor. She only remembered her mother’s trembling hands, the way her voice cracked when she whispered, “There’s been an accident.” After that, time blurred. The funeral, the condolences, the empty words from neighbors who didn’t really know them — they all passed like static. Her father’s debts surfaced faster than their grief could fade. Men in dark shirts and quiet threats began showing up at their doorstep. Her mother’s health worsened. And Stacey found herself standing alone beneath the weight of everything her father had left behi...
