the way the light hit that bus window, it really made the dust motes glow, and then i caught the flicker in someone's eye, that little spark that used to mean something dangerous, and my stomach still did that quick clench, like it was bracing for impact, just a phantom limb of dread. it’s wild, because it wasn't fear at all, just the body running an old program, a memory of tension. like my bones still remember the bend, but they learned to grow around the break.