the way the light hit the dust motes in the air, catching them just so, and for a microsecond, the phrase "we need to talk" would have made those motes feel like a suffocating swarm, the whole world shrinking down to that one terrifying point. instead, it’s just dust, just light, and my shoulders, which used to ride so high they were practically my earlobes, just stayed right where they were, heavy and settled. the mind still registers the ghost of the old fear, a tiny flicker in the periphery, but the body just... doesn't follow anymore.