"You're doing so well," she said, and it felt like an accusation, like I’m supposed to be fixed now or something, that progress is supposed to be a straight line and not this chaotic scribble of okayness and then the floor falling out from under me again and again, but at least I'm getting better at landing, maybe? still hurts though, Tank whimpers when I move sometimes, like he feels it too, this brittle architecture of bones and scars, every a negotiation with gravity, and the sky is just that indifferent blue that doesn't care if I can stand or not.