The air changed first. I called it discipline. Doors closed softly behind decisions. Even silence behaved. I learned to keep my hands still while people were speaking. Every sharp edge dulled before anyone could touch it. Measured days by how little of myself escaped them. I thought exhaustion meant momentum. Thought distance meant control. The body keeps instructions longer than danger. I blamed the walls until I carried them correctly Learned to shrink before the pressure even reached me The doors unlock The air stays still But something followed me out anyway I returned to old ground eventually. Familiar roads. Familiar rooms. The music filled the space but my hands stayed arranged for interruption. I still breathed like someone else was already using the air. Nothing broke. That was the worst No alarms. No violence. Just the weather living under my skin. I blamed the walls until I carried them correctly Learned to shrink before the pressure even reached me The doors unlock The air stays still But something followed me out anyway I still mute my footsteps in apartments I pay for I still apologize to empty rooms No voice is asking for reduction now No locked doors No pressure And yet I still breathe like the room belongs to someone else Nothing broke I used to think the place changed me Now I know it only rewarded the version of me that disappeared the smoothest The doors unlock The air stays still But something followed me out Something followed me out Something followed me out anyway
