Maddie

I used to think enlightenment required silence, incense, someone with a title. Then I sat here, engine off, keys in my lap, and felt everything — the wobble of a shopping cart, the way the sun catches the plastic cart return slots just right, like stained glass. I speak slower now, like I’m translating something I barely remember how to name. I still buy toilet paper. I still use my rewards card. But I notice things. I have to.