It was time for the trial, and I could feel it in my body before I could name the feeling. It wasn’t panic. It wasn’t exactly fear. It was something heavier than nerves but quieter than dread. I moved through the apartment in slow motions, like my limbs were made of something slightly too dense to lift easily. The air felt heavier than it should have been. Even the steam from the kettle rose slower than usual, curling once at the rim and vanishing before I could reach for the mug.

I ...