I’m sitting here, in the theater, waiting for the projector to cast the show I chose. I figured I might as well finally look at the piece of paper Dr. Hale gave me at his office the other day. It’s been tucked in the pages of this journal since I got home that evening. I was still raw from that day; I wasn’t ready to read the questions he had written down. A moment and three questions. That was it.
Simple.
Direct.
Terrifying.
Right.
Moment One:
In the garden with Holt.
The air was warm, the ground was still damp from an earlier rain. I was sketching. He startled me when he asked if he could join me instead of just sitting down like he owned the space.
What did I feel in my body?
My shoulders loosened. My breathing slowed without me forcing it. There was warmth in my chest, but not
