Posted here a while back about going for that walk anyway, late, after the boxes won for the night.
Someone in the comments said it still counts the same as any other walk. Keep thinking about that.
Because it kept happening. Pack for a while, hit a wall, lace up anyway. Most nights now. The street’s empty at that hour which turns out to be the whole appeal, nobody around, no small talk, just me and the sidewalk.
The cats clocked it fast. They sit by the door now the second I reach for my shoes, like they’re coming too. They’re not.
Freelance work’s been doing its usual thing, dead quiet then suddenly everything at once. The walk is the only part of the day that stays put no matter what the inbox looks like.
Still haven’t sorted the mail pile from packing. Ignoring it has become its own routine at this point.