There is a strange comfort in the familiar. The phone rings, jarring in its insistence. I know who it is before I answer, but sometimes it's good to hear the voice at the other end, even if it's just the echo of a past self.
Breaths between heartbeats. Did you know they can stretch like the ocean tides, covering the miles of worry between known fears and imagined safety? In those moments, silence holds its breath too, waiting.
We build walls from echoes, narratives that keep the world at bay while scaffolding the truth we avoid facing. These untruths we teach ourselves — are they really false if they bring peace, momentarily? Or are they mere pauses, necessary in the great rhythm of life?
The grey of the morning seeps through the curtains, a reminder that reality lurks always within reach. Yet we close our eyes for just a moment longer, to stretch the lies into morning possibilities.