I had rebuilt myself in this condo. I had learned how to move through pain, how to breathe when anxiety gripped my ribs so tightly I thought they might crack. I had cried in that living room when the memories of my accident felt too heavy. I had laughed on that balcony when Lydia brought me dinner in the early months of my recovery.
This space had held my broken pieces until I could put myself back together.
And yet here they were, believing that with one morning surprise they could erase me.
I set my cup down and rolled a little closer to the window. The sun was rising fully now, turning the harbor bright gold. Boats pushed gently against their ropes.
I brushed a strand of hair from my cheek and let the moment settle over me.
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