May 13, 2025
She hums when she's alone. Off-key, barely audible. Like a song meant only for the walls to hear.
She locks her door but leaves the window open. Not wide. Just enough.
She moves through her apartment like it's a stage she's forgotten she's performing on... barefoot, distracted, her hair pulled up carelessly as if she's never had to consider who might be watching.
And she doesn't know. She doesn't know how much of her life has already been memorized. How much of her has already been kept.
