The meeting had already started and I was still sitting there, which I realized only because I could hear people talking and no one was waiting anymore. Normally that’s enough to get me moving. I’m already halfway up, fixing it before it becomes a thing. This time I stayed where I was, chair turned a little, one foot out of the shoe, hands resting like they’d forgotten their job. The morning had been fine in that busy, controlled way. Messages answered quickly. Things closed once they were almost done. Lunch pushed aside because something …
Somewhere Between Starting and Staying
A while back, I noticed that I could spend an entire morning at my desk and still feel unsure about what I’d actually done. Not because I was distracted or wasting time, but because I was busy in a way that left no footprint. The document would be open, the last paragraph reread a few times, a word changed and then changed back, the structure reconsidered, the coffee reheated, and somehow the hours would pass without resistance. It didn’t feel wrong while it was happening. I wasn’t avoiding the work. I was close to it. Close enough that …
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The Sentence
The sentence has been sitting there longer than I expected, long enough that I’ve stopped rereading the words and started noticing everything else instead, which is usually how I know I’m avoiding something. It’s a plain sentence, not trying to explain itself or soften anything, and once it’s sent I won’t be able to keep making small adjustments in the background the way I usually do, which turns out to matter more to me than I like admitting. So I leave it open and get on with other things, replying when needed, staying involved, telling …
She Didn’t Send the Message
He said he’d call later and she heard it the way you hear most things that don’t come with a time, not trusting it, not dismissing it, just letting it sit somewhere loose. The evening moved on without asking her permission. Food happened. The kitchen got messy. She sat down, stood up, sat again, and only much later noticed how often her phone had been in her hand without her remembering picking it up. The message came when the night was already tired. He said he was exhausted. He added a quick sorry. He didn’t say anything about the call. …
The Life That Never Broke
I figured out the problem on a day when nothing went wrong, and that’s what made it hard to argue with. The work was done, the list was cleared, the room was quiet in that satisfied way that usually means you’ve earned rest, and yet I sat there longer than I needed to, staring at a closed laptop, feeling mildly irritated without a good reason to justify it. The day had gone exactly as planned. Emails answered, tasks finished, progress made in the neat, measurable way that feels responsible. At one point, I remember choosing not to step …
I Didn’t Fix Anything
I woke up because the fan was clicking, not loudly, not urgently, just enough to register, and once I noticed it my attention kept drifting back to the sound, even when I tried to ignore it, so I lay there staring at the ceiling, half-listening, half-waiting, telling myself I’d fall back asleep even though I already knew I wouldn’t. The alarm went off and I turned it off without sitting up, my hand staying on the phone longer than necessary, as if those extra seconds might soften the morning, and when I finally stood up the floor felt colder …
The Quiet Art of Not Disappearing
In an Indian family, you learn quick that love means making yourself a little smaller so everyone else fits easy, like parents dumping their worries on you or cousins calling only when their stuff falls apart. At a family get-together, chachi says something pointed about you still being single, it stings bad, but you laugh it off quiet because speaking up stops all the talk and everyone stares at you like you started trouble. That college cousin goes missing for months, then calls to vent about their startup mess without asking how your job's …
It Made Sense at the Time
It was already open on the screen, the cursor blinking where it always blinked when something was almost done. Finishing it would take twenty minutes, maybe thirty, and tomorrow would be easier if it was off the list. That’s how the night tipped in that direction. Not with a decision, just with momentum. At the beginning, this kind of choice felt solid. Responsible. The adult thing to do.There were reasons that didn’t wobble when spoken out loud: deadlines exist, money matters, other people are waiting. None of that is wrong. It’s practical. …