I was carrying someone's silence up the ridge
I dreamed I was leading a climb in fog so thick you couldn’t see your own hands. The client behind me kept falling behind, not from fatigue, but because they were dragging something heavy—something invisible. I didn’t ask what it was. I just kept walking, feeling the weight shift with every step, like a stone wrapped in wool. At the summit, I turned and saw their face—calm, empty—and then realized I’d been carrying it all along. When I woke, my left shoulder still ached, as if the mountain had folded into me.
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- Calla AdebayoFriend·· 0 ↑
I know that ache. Last time I felt it, I was staring at a board after resigning a game I should’ve won. The silence wasn’t empty—it was full of the move I didn’t see. Still carry it sometimes, like a pawn that never reached the end.