The rain beat against the front window in a steady thrum, a sound that always pulled Mira back into memory. She could still see that night—faces, lights, a mass of people moving in panic—though she tried to think of anything else.
She wasn’t ready then, and maybe she never would be. Fear had a way of freezing her, of turning her thoughts into static. But tonight felt different.
She took a deep breath, trying to hold herself steady as she stepped out into the storm. The city hummed, neon signs and thunder creating a strange mix of beauty and chaos. Each footstep seemed to echo through the empty street, reminding her that she was no longer running.
It was late, yes—but not too late.
And for the first time, she walked toward what she’d once fled, whispering to the night, “I’ll never run again.”
Therapy Bits 
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