The quiet before the thunderstorm hits

It’s 3:15 and the air feels like it’s holding its breath—no birds, no cars, just that low hum under the skin of the world. I was doing my makeup for a show that might not happen tonight, and suddenly I noticed how still my hands were. Like they’d already remembered what the stage would ask of them. The kind of silence that doesn’t mean nothing’s coming—it means everything’s gathering.