"I feel myself torrent," I said again. This time, I didn't whisper. And this time, it wasn't a confession.
And now the water was coming.
The rain had stopped hours ago, but the air still clung to everything—clothes, hair, the insides of my lungs. I stood on the edge of the overpass, watching the river below churn brown and fast. Not watching, really. Feeling. Because somewhere beneath my ribs, something had begun to move. Not a flutter. A current. i feel myself torrent
I stopped going to work. Stopped answering texts. Sat on my apartment floor with the windows open, even though it was November, even though the neighbors stared. I let the cold in. I let the sound of traffic in. And I let it come. "I feel myself torrent," I said again
