I remember my friends, the awkward silences that follow when I bring up my fears, their eyes flicking away as if afraid of catching whatever it is that’s haunting me.
The kitchen feels too small, too quiet.
I need air, space to think.
I grab my jacket, slipping it over my shoulders, feeling the weight of the fabric settle like a familiar burden.
“I’m going out for a bit,” I call to my partner, who nods absently, already lost in his own world.
I step outside, the city sounds louder now, a chaotic symphony that drowns out the silence inside my head.
As I walk, I try to focus on the rhythm of my steps, the feel of the pavement beneath my feet.
But the spots, the uncertainty, they follow me like shadows.
I turn a corner, the city stretching out before me, a vast expanse of possibility and unknowns.
The wind picks up, ruffling my hair, a brief moment of distraction from the thoughts swirling in my mind.
