Letting It Come Close

Everything lined up too fast. The room went still without asking. Edge is sharp

and ball at once, like a switch I didn't reach for.

My breath fell into place before I decided to stand there for a

second. It held. Then the old timing kicked in, muscle memory,

clean and quiet. I stepped back before it asked. Left without slamming the door.

I've been doing that for years, leaving early. Calling it skill, calling it safety.

Nothing chased me. Nothing broke. No alarm, no weight rushing in.

Just space where something could stay. It comes close, then it drifts. I don't pull