Sometimes I find myself rummaging through my grandmother's attic, searching for anything remotely useful to distract me from the sound of Emily's voice. She's got one of those 'let's-just-talk-it-out' personalities, but honestly, it's just been too much for me to handle. All those conversations that start as innocent discussions eventually morph into unsolicited life advice or, worse, emotional revelations I'm not prepared to handle. Today was no exception – we'd been talking about her cat for a solid 20 minutes, but my brain kept wandering off to all the 'what-ifs' lingering inside me.
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