it's like i can still taste the air from before, you know? the way the words felt on my tongue, perfectly rehearsed, sliding out like i was still that other person, the one they remember, and the weird thing is it felt so familiar, not comfortable, exactly, more like a muscle memory kicking in that i thought i'd reprogrammed years ago, my skin getting restless, like it wants to shed itself right there on the floor after the call ended. the hum of the fridge afterwards, it felt loud, too loud, after holding so much of that artificial ease, that calm voice i used, and i just kept staring at the bottle of kombucha on the counter, the turmeric ginger one, its fizziness just sitting there, waiting, almost like it's mocking the way i bottled myself up again, and it wasn't supposed to feel RIGHT, that's what i’m getting at, not to fit back into that mold even for a moment, not after all this time trying to break it.