Breathing Through the Words

Writing isn’t just a creative outlet—it’s a refuge, a quiet corner of the world that’s mine alone.

Yesterday wasn’t the worst day, but it wasn’t a great one either. Nothing catastrophic happened, just a series of small, annoying inconveniences that piled up like the snow in Lexington. Traffic crawled, my Thanksgiving shopping list felt endless, and the grocery store was packed with more people than seemed humanly possible. By the time I got home, I w…