The office looked smaller than Willow remembered, not because the space itself had changed, but because the gravity it once held over her had dissolved. The building still stood with the same glass-fronted confidence, steel lines catching the muted light of morning, but it no longer extended into her. What had once followed her home, crept into her sleep, and shaped her sense of worth now stayed obediently within its walls, contained and manageable.
As she approached the entrance, she became aware of how her body responded differently. Her stride remained even, unhurried without being deliberate. Her breath stayed steady, deep enough to register but unforced. The quiet rituals of preparation she had once performed without noticing were absent, and the lack of them felt almost disorienting, like discovering that a pain she had learned to accommodate had faded without announcement.
