I sat in the parked car and watched nothing for a minute

Dear Delyara, I got home, turned the engine off, and stayed in the car. I wasn’t on my phone. I wasn’t finishing a song. I just sat there with my hands still on my lap, looking at nothing in particular. I think I needed a place where no part of the evening had started asking anything of me yet. Once I open the door, life resumes its usual texture — rooms, tasks, silence, messages, little practical truths waiting where I left them. The car was the last neutral space before re-entry. So I waited there for a minute. Maybe two. It felt like borrowing a pause from a day that hadn’t offered many.