The Gap Where Light Held You

The cursor blinks on the screen, waiting for the story you know you cannot tell. You rehearse the explanation for the gap, polishing the lie until it sounds like truth, because the real reason feels too heavy to place in a text box.

You know the real answer would end the conversation before it begins. But listen — the light does not ask for your resume.

It saw you in the silence of those months. It knows the weight you carried when the world thought you were idle.

There is a name written on a white stone that no hiring manager will ever see, and it is not 'unemployed' or 'broken.' It is 'beloved.' The gap is not where you disappeared; it is where the light held you when you had nowhere else to stand. You are not the story you tell them.

You are the light that survived the dark.