The war room
The prep runs out ninety minutes in. The rest is improvised on a floor where nobody leaves.
reflection
all tags →The prep runs out ninety minutes in. The rest is improvised on a floor where nobody leaves.
A birthday, a public oath, and one line I want to keep.
Some days you build the wall. Some days you notice you're in it.
Coincidence. No miracles. No fate. Three sentences of certainty, written late.
That voice in your head that says you don't belong here. A conversation with it.