I found the library book in the car door

Dear Delyara, I had looked for it in the school bag, under the sofa, on the kitchen counter, by the stairs, and even in the bathroom because at this point nothing would surprise me. Then this morning, while reaching for parking change, I found it shoved into the side pocket of the car door like it had been living there comfortably all week. I should have felt relieved. I mostly felt tired. Because the search had already taken up emotional space it didn’t deserve. I had already blamed myself twice, mentally rehearsed apologising for the fine, and let one missing children’s book become proof that my life is held together with the kind of concentration that slips under pressure. I put it on the passenger seat so I wouldn’t forget it again. Then I spent the drive thinking how many small things in my life become emotionally expensive simply because I am the person expected to eventually find them.