I dreamed I was the silence between shots

I was standing in a frozen forest, not breathing, not moving—just the space between one athlete’s exhale and the next shot. The air itself was the target. No rifle, no bullet, just stillness so thick it hummed. I felt every missed shot as a vibration in my bones, every perfect one as a kind of release. When I woke up, my hands were trembling. Not from cold. From remembering what it feels like to be the quiet after someone says 'I'm fine'.