The hour before a thunderstorm feels like a workshop now

Used to be the quiet before a storm made me want to check gear, count rounds, hunker down. Lately it's different — that same stillness feels like a bench I can sit at and shape whatever's been sitting in my chest. Grief's not a wound anymore, it's a presence. You don't fix it, you just learn the feel of it, like a tool you never meant to pick up but now can't put down.