Weeks have passed.
I know because the calendar keeps moving even when everything else feels suspended in place. Because the meetings blur together. Because the same questions repeat themselves in slightly different language, and my answers never change.
Containment.
That has been my life.
Outwardly, things are calm. The engagement remains "under consideration." The media cycle found something else to chew on. The board is quiet, satisfied for now with my reassurances that matters are being handled responsibly and privately.
Privately, it has been exhausting.
Every morning, I wake up with the same weight pressing against my chest—not panic, not guilt, but vigilance. The kind that keeps you alert even when nothing appears to be happening. The kind that teaches you how to sleep lightly, how to listen for fractures you cannot yet see.
