Maria:
I get dressed for work.
That part happens automatically. Same routine, same motions. I even pick out something decent, something I would not be embarrassed to be seen in, which already tells me I am not planning to stay home.
Then I just… don’t leave.
I stand there for a moment, bag in hand, staring at nothing in particular, and something in me quietly refuses. No dramatic reason. No sudden realization. Just a soft, stubborn no.
So I drop the bag back on the chair and turn away from the door like it offended me.
That is how I end up outside a few minutes later, walking toward the stable without really deciding to.
The air is still, the kind that makes everything feel slower than it actually is. Even my steps feel quieter. Like I am not supposed to disturb anything.
The stabl
