I Read Danger Into Tone Faster Than Words

Dear Delyara, My body doesn’t wait for content. It reacts to atmosphere. A “Hey” that sounds wrong. A delayed reply. A pause before someone answers. A school receptionist using a serious voice. My husband coming home quiet. A doctor saying, “Let’s just follow up.” I’m already gone by then. In the chest. In the stomach. In the future. I know I do this. That doesn’t stop it. And afterward, when the situation turns out smaller than my body had prepared for, I am left feeling both relieved and ashamed — relieved it wasn’t what I feared, ashamed that my nervous system still lives like every shift in tone is the beginning of collapse. This is not overthinking. It’s a body that got trained badly by too much uncertainty.