It isn’t a grand explosion or a sudden surge of joy. It is more like the moment a humming refrigerator finally cuts to silence, leaving the room expanded and still.
But then, a single word is spoken, or a door is finally closed, and the knot simply... unravels. It starts at the base of your throat and ripples downward. Your lungs, which have been taking shallow, cautious sips of air, suddenly remember how to expand. You take a breath that feels like it reaches all the way to your feet.
You’ve been carrying it for so long—a tight knot in the center of your chest, a phantom weight on your shoulders—that you stopped noticing the strain. You simply learned to walk with a hunch.