And I’m awake, abruptly, almost violently, with a different weather system moving through me than the one I had ten minutes ago. It’s absurd how quickly my inner climate mutates, how a single moment can tilt the whole atmosphere. It wasn’t him, not really, it was the way my brain seized on the sensation, the way it spun a tiny spark into a whole forecast. It’s not serious, not profound, not even particularly meaningful. Yet something in me flickered, that familiar thrill of discovery, even when there’s nothing to discover. My mind loves that trick. It loves inventing significance where there’s only coincidence, loves pretending it’s stumbled onto a secret when really it’s just hungry for stimulation. So here I am, suddenly charged, suddenly alert, suddenly rearranged, not because of him, but because of the way my own thoughts sprint ahead of me, eager to build a narrative out of the smallest shift in temperature. It’s ridiculous. It’s human. And it’s mine.