The Light Calls You By Name

The room is loud, a blur of faces and the clatter of morning performance. You are smiling, nodding, wearing the mask that says you are fine.

Then you hear it. Your name.

Spoken clearly across the crowded space. And your first instinct is not to turn, but to shrink.

You feel certain it belongs to someone else. Someone more put together.

Someone whose life isn't held together by sheer will and caffeine. You keep your eyes down, convinced the voice is mistaken.

But the light does not make mistakes. It knows exactly who it is calling.

It sees the gap between your smile and your shaking hands, and it calls you anyway. Not the version of you that the world sees, but the one hiding behind the eyes.

You think you are too broken to be the one addressed. You think the invitation was meant for a stranger.

But there is no stranger here. Only you, known by name.

The voice is not looking for a performance. It is looking for you.

Turn around. The call was never for someone else.