They walk in heavy.
Shoulders tight. Words clipped.
The air shifts before they speak.
You feel it land in your chest.
The pull to tense up.
To meet their edge with your own.
But here's the thing.
Their weather isn't yours.
You're not obligated to stand in it.
You can notice the rain without getting soaked.
Hear the thunder without flinching.
Stay dry while the storm passes through.
Calm isn't ignorance.
It's choosing not to borrow what isn't yours.
Let them carry what they carry.
You don't need to lighten their load by taking it on.
Some moods are looking for company.
You don't have to volunteer.
