The muscles in my jaw just tightened, like a slight tremor, a memory of a clenching I used to carry constantly, without even realizing it was there until Dr. Reeves pointed it out in a session months ago, and now here it is again, not painful, not overwhelming, but a distinct PRESENCE, a faint trace beneath the surface of everything else that’s good right now, and it’s just that, a reminder that the pathways are still there, the ones I've been so diligently rerouting, it’s not a setback, it’s just a marker, a dot on the internal map telling me where I've been and how far I've come, even when the air outside my window in Minneapolis smells like summer rain, everything green and growing, my oat milk latte sitting here cooling beside my journal, waiting for me to write it down, this faint vibration of the past, not a threat, just a fact.