She kept walking past the
same corner, three times
in an hour, as if the
city might finally tell
her which way was
forward. Her feet knew
the route better than her
mind did, retracing
blocks that felt familiar
and foreign at once.
A bus came and went.
She did not flag it
down.
There was no place she
was late for — only the
quiet hum of not knowing
where she belonged. So
she sat on a low wall
and watched the afternoon
thin out around her.
For once, she did not
force an answer. She let
the not-knowing sit
beside her until it felt
less like a weight and
more like company.