crossing

I remember staring at the cursor blinking on my laptop screen.

The report had been pending for three days. Not because it was difficult. Not because I didn’t know what to write.

I had already written it twice in my head.

Still, I found myself arranging files, replying to unimportant messages, wiping the desk. Moving, but not moving forward.

I told myself I needed better clarity. A quieter moment. The right mood.

All gentle lies.