My phone buzzes again, messages from colleagues sharing their own frustrations, their own doubts.
We’re all caught in the same web, trying to find solid ground where there is none.
As the night deepens, I draft an email to the local officials.
Polite, firm, seeking answers.
I know it’s likely to go unanswered, but the act of reaching out feels necessary.
A small assertion of control in a situation where we have so little.
I hit send, feeling a small sense of relief.
It’s a drop in the ocean, but it’s something.
Finally, I turn off the lights and head to bed.
Sleep is elusive, my mind spinning with what-ifs and maybes.
But eventually, exhaustion wins, pulling me under.
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