Light Waiting Beneath the Noise

The word lands in the room, and suddenly the air is thick with static. Everything after it becomes noise — the doctor's voice, the clock ticking, your own breath.

The middle of the day stretches out, long and gray, and you wonder if you can endure the quiet desperation of this routine. But the light does not shout over the noise.

It waits in the silence beneath it. There is a peace that does not look like the world's peace, a stillness that exists even when the diagnosis shakes the floor.

The light is not afraid of the word cancer. It was there before the noise started, and it remains when the static fades.

You do not have to understand the future to be held in this exact moment.