the way the light catches the dust motes dancing in the air, a tiny, fleeting ballet I used to just walk through without a glance, now it’s like each one holds a little secret just for me, a delicate unfolding that presses a soft warmth into the hollow of my throat, and it makes me think about how much I used to miss, always looking for something grand to announce itself, when the magic was always just… here, in the texture of the fallen leaves outside, in the way Honey’s ear twitches when she hears a far-off bird.