Fingers find what mind forgets. My body remembers the panic attacks even when my head thinks I'm fine. The tightened shoulders are a "weather forecast" I can't ignore anymore. It's a warning system, not a personal failing. Muscle memory is a cruel teacher. Years after I consciously let go of certain anxieties, my hands still hover over my phone, drafting and deleting messages I'd never send, a ghost limb reaching for a panic button that doesn't exist anymore. It's like a phantom itch only mindfulness can scratch.