The reality of the situation is unavoidable, and yet, I find myself clinging to this moment of quiet before the storm.
Tomorrow, I’ll face the meeting, the scrutiny, the possible indifference.
But tonight, the clove steam envelops me, offering a temporary escape.
In the quiet of my kitchen, I find a brief moment of peace.
Yet, even this tranquility is tinged with the knowledge of what’s to come.
The ritual remains, a small defiance against the weight of the world.
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