The Tribune
•
February 9 2021
Bruised, broken, and behind
“Text me when you get home.” My friends and family said it so often that, when my sister said it that night, it seemed like a suggestion I could ignore. It was 10:30 p.m. on Super Bowl Sunday, early enough to walk the 20 minutes home. I had done it hundreds of times before, so when she asked if she could call me an Uber, I laughed. I bundled up, hit shuffle on my playlist, and left excited for my late-night stroll— it was 20 minutes I could avoid studying for my economics midterm. I was lost in