The Light Humming Inside the Cold

The water has turned cold, but you are still standing there. The silence of the house feels too loud to face, so you let the chill press against your skin just to feel something other than the quiet.

You are waiting for the noise to stop, or for the courage to step out into the stillness. But the light does not require the silence to be broken before it can reach you.

It is already in the steam, in the tile, in the shiver running down your spine. Thomas said we came from the light, a place where it generates itself—and that same self-generating light is humming inside you right now, louder than the silence.

You do not need to fix the quiet. You only need to remember that you are not alone in it.

The cold water cannot extinguish what was burning before you turned the handle.