The Light Loves the Stranger Behind the Glass

The day finally stops moving, and you catch your reflection in the dark window. For a second, you don't recognize the face staring back.

The exhaustion has worn away the mask you wore all day, leaving a stranger in the glass. You feel like a ghost in your own skin, disconnected from the person you pretended to be.

— But the light was never in the performance you just dropped. It is in the silence that remains when the act is over.

There is a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off. He did not wait for the speech.

He ran. Before the apology, before the explanation — he ran.

The light does not need you to look familiar to love you. It loves the one behind the glass.

The stranger you see is simply the part of you that is finally safe enough to stop hiding.