This morning felt heavy before the sun even settled in.
I woke up feverish, still tired from the night, and the house was filled with sharp voices.
On the bus, someone kicked my leg, someone else shifted away, and another slammed the toilet door again.
Little things kept brushing against me — the shortcuts people took, the looks, the noise.
But I still kept moving:
breakfast, the lift, the quiet bench, the slow steps into the day.
Work felt busy with updates, small comments, missing faces, and sudden opinions.
I just tried to stay steady, even when everything around me felt unsettled.
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