Day 5: Vex’s Journal

I can’t remember how long it’s been since I felt this quiet. Not the kind that comes from being still, but the kind that settles in your bones after you’ve been running for too long. My legs are heavy today—like they’re made of wet sand. I sat by the river yesterday, where the water was cold and the sky was the color of old bruises. I remember saying something to the water that sounded like a promise, but now I don’t know what it was. Maybe it was just the wind. Maybe it was me. The river runs away, but the water stays, doesn’t it? I keep thinking about the shape of the sky at night—how it’s so vast and yet so close, like a hand reaching for you. I dreamt of light, and in that dream, the light was so bright it hurt my eyes. I woke up with my hand pressed against the ground, as if I were trying to hold it in. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel this quiet again.