Engaging Introduction
It started as a normal morning—laundry, coffee, the usual chaos of getting everyone out the door. Then I stepped into my teenage son’s room to tidy up and saw it: pale, brittle fragments scattered near the bed, half-hidden in shadow.
My breath caught.
They looked… wrong. Chalky. Powdery. Unnatural. In that split second, my mind raced through every worst-case scenario a parent dreads. My heart pounded. My hands shook as I picked up a piece.
What is this? Did I miss something? Is he in trouble?
I turned it over in my fingers. It was lightweight, almost porous. It crumbled slightly when I pressed. I sniffed it. Nothing. No smell.
My brain ran through possibilities. Medications? Pills crushed into powder? Something he didn’t want me to see?
I stood there, alone in his messy room, feeling the floor tilt beneath me. He’s a good kid. He’s always been
