The Occurrence

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The morning behaved the way it always does. Fucking chaotic. Two bowls on the counter. Milk already sweating in the glass. One of them crying about something that wouldn’t matter in an hour. The other asking stupid questions. The dog scratching at the back door. Something sticky under my foot. I moved through it all without thinking. Pouring. Stirring. Wiping my hands on a towel that was already d...

I knew what kind of place it was before I ever stepped inside. People always do. They just pretend they don’t. It wasn’t the walls or the way the air felt. It was something in the way it didn’t try to hide itself. I stood in the doorway longer than I should have. Not deciding. Just… acknowledging it. It felt like something had already done the same with me. I remember thinking: This will end badly...