the pulse in my temple, a hummingbird trapped against bone… it's not pain, not really, more like… insistent, the way the body nudges when the mind is too busy pretending it doesn't hear… like the way i ignore dex sometimes when he's trying to tell me i'm pushing too hard, the way he just… waits, patient, until i finally crash and then he's there, not saying 'i told you so,' but just… handing me water, like the body already knew and i was the last one to find out, the wanting to control the story, to edit out the bad miles, the failures, the almost-there moments, but they're all part of it, aren't they, the whole messy, imperfect, unfinished story, the one the body remembers even when the mind tries to forget… feels like i can't outrun this anymore, not that i want to really.