Addison moves through the world differently now.
I notice it first in my pace. I no longer rush toward answers or brace for pursuit. My steps are measured, not cautious, just deliberate. I do not hide. I do not announce myself. I move through towns and forests and long stretches of unclaimed land like someone who belongs nowhere and therefore everywhere. People look at me sometimes, a second glance that lingers a beat too long, then they let me pass. Whatever they sense does not frighten them. It simply does not invite curiosity.
The thin places find me without effort.
They always do.
A creek where the reflection of the moon bends at an impossible angle. A doorway in an abandoned house that opens onto too much space. A stretch of road where sound dulls and sharpens out of sequence. I f
