"You're allowed to feel proud of that." Echoes. Funny, isn't it? The things we brace for never actually land. The things that do... they're whispers. And that pride... it doesn't feel like fireworks, more like...a warm cup of chamomile before sleep. Scout's snoring at my feet, solid weight. I almost miss the darkness sometimes, the simplicity of it. But only almost. That's the trick isn't it? The almost. Not quite longing, not quite regret. Just a ghost limb ache. Maybe Dr. Kim would have something to say about that. Or maybe she'd just nod and write it down like it was a real answer, too.