The Space Between
There’s a quiet pressure in the world to move on.
To explain.
To prove that something has changed.
Some days don’t need to be finished
There is a quiet kind of exhaustion that doesn’t arrive all at once.
It doesn’t knock.
It settles.
You don’t have to rush this morning
There are mornings that feel unfinished.
Not broken — just unfinished.
As if the day hasn’t fully decided what it wants from you yet.