I’ve been waiting all summer for peace.
For quiet.
For a moment to breathe without the constant hum of chaos.
Now that it’s here, I don’t know what to do with it.
Writer Cat wanders the house, mewing softly, looking for the people who should be here.
I don’t think she likes the emptiness either.
It’s strange—
I know I should feel safe.
I live in a safe town, in a safe neighborhood.
I have ways to protect myself, to keep danger at bay.
But without Elvis here, every creak in the floorboards makes me flinch.
Every shift in the air sends my pulse racing.
I hate this weakness.
This fear that lingers like a shadow, even in the sunlight.
I’m not in those places anymore.
I’m not in those situations where danger waited around every corner.
But my body doesn’t believe me.
I tell myself time will help.
But maybe some things are beyond time.
Counseling hasn’t helped.
Maybe nothing will.
Maybe this is just something I’ll have to get used to—
learning to live with the echo of fear in the quiet.
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