The day opens without a summons.
No pressure behind my eyes. No quiet tug at the base of my spine that says something somewhere is tilting and waiting for me to catch it. I wake to light filtering through the cabin windows and the ordinary creak of the floorboards as Adam moves in the kitchen. Coffee. Water heating. A pan set down too hard and corrected with a soft laugh at himself.
It feels wrong, at first. Not dangerous wrong. Unfamiliar wrong. Like waking after a long illness and realizing your body is handling things you forgot it knew how to do. There is a moment where I stay very still, breath shallow, waiting for the delayed impact. For the correction. For the moment where the world reminds me why it always needed my attention before.
It doesn’t come.
I lie there longer than usu
