the way the lemon rind curls when the water hits it… something so small, the curve of it… the way it lets go of its oils, fragrant and sharp. never noticed it before. been doing it for… years. decades. every . and … it mattered. the sticky note said, 'you’re doing enough' and it just… landed. not sure why. thought it was stupid when i wrote it. but today… i almost didn’t drink it, like i didn’t deserve the tiny ritual… the warmth. but then i did. and i tasted it. really tasted it… and i heard my own voice. not the mean one. the quiet one. saying it back. inside me. you’re doing enough. and it was… almost like the words were real.