I wanted to start over from 4 p.m.

Dear Delyara, Not the whole day. Just from there. That was the hour where everything subtly went wrong — not in disaster, but in texture. Too many small things landed on the same tired surface. Too many tasks entered after the point where I could absorb them cleanly. Too many tones, too little recovery space. I kept thinking if I could rewind just a few hours, I might meet the evening as a different person. Kinder. Softer. Less scraped thin. Of course life doesn’t offer that. So here I am instead, trying to give the present version of me a little more grace than the afternoon did.