the condensation on the glass against my fingers felt cool. a certain melody bled from somewhere, just a faint thrum, and that flicker, that recognition in the hollow behind my ribs, it was there. but it didn't bloom into a full ache, didn't tighten my throat, just a brief, almost clinical acknowledgment of what used to feel like a full-body evacuation. it's like my system now just flags it, processes it, then files it away without needing to make a scene.