CARMEN
After that moment—after I thought I saw him—I couldn’t relax.
I tried. I really did, but my body wouldn’t listen.
Everything in me went tight; invisible strings pulled me rigid and tense. My shoulders locked, and every movement was measured, each breath shallow, as dread sharpened my focus—fear of being noticed rising as tension grew.
It wasn’t even a conscious thing. It was instinct.
It was survival, a memory awakened. Deep inside, something snapped to attention—warning, bracing, ready for the moment I feared.
Bracing for him.
Bracing for what always came next.
It didn’t matter that I hadn’t actually seen Arthur.
It didn’t even matter that I wasn’t sure I’d seen Danvers.
The possibility was enough to make my body remember things my mind didn’t want to.
And it was reactin
