181. The Woman Who Begins to Stay

Nova

I notice it in the silence first. Not the absence of noise, no. I have lived with that kind of silence before, the brittle kind that waits to collapse, but the softness of it. The way the room doesn’t feel like it’s holding its breath around me anymore. The way my shoulders don’t ache from being raised too long in readiness. This one is a quiet peace.

I’m back in my hotel suite, shoes kicked off near the door, coat draped carelessly over the chair ...