A week passed, and life didn't fall apart.
Which, honestly, felt like an achievement.
By the time Sophie was back on campus, sending me selfies in oversized hoodies and complaining about her professor who spoke like he was being paid by the word, I had already slipped back into the steady rhythm of work. The early mornings and late evenings. The coffee that went cold on my desk because I forgot it was there.
It was another Wednesday at the office and everything was going as routinely as possible.
The emails that I had piled up, the various meetings and conversation that involved me me deadlines and deliverables as well as things that could be quantified and controlled.
By mid-afternoon, the floor had settled into a familiar rhythm.
I was reviewing a calendar adjustment when I felt it, a subtle shift in the atmosphere. It wasn't loud or anything of the sort, it was just a quiet pull at my focus,
I looked up.
