The morning began with a jolt — the sudden hum of the vacuum pulling me awake, followed by clothes placed on a chair as if to remind me of rules I had forgotten. Her words were sharp, almost like a door half-closed, warning me not to linger where I didn’t belong. Even honey, meant to soothe, spilled in haste.
I left at 6:30, following the fast steps of a stranger down the road, my own pace quietly tucked behind hers. The bus carried me forward, to the station, to the lift, to the stairs, each movement like a rhythm rehearsed.
At the shuttle stop, I sat a little apart. A familiar face signaled me — “Dreaming, ah you?” he teased. Maybe I was, because part of me still lingered in the roughness of the morning, learning to shake it off.
On the bus, kindness returned in a simple greeting. She sat beside me, spoke softly of leaving early, of seeing a doctor. Even the driver reminded us that no one is singled out; we all share the same road, the same ride.
Inside, the usual faces gathered — laughter here, tension there. My chest tightened when I saw him arrive, and when another came, teasing words floated in the air. My nerves flickered like small sparks, but still I stayed.
And through it all, I held onto one steady truth:
I am okay, despite the rough beginning. 🌙✨
