Ease leaves quietly.
Not all at once.
Not angrily.
It fades the way borrowed warmth does—slow enough that you only notice when the cold finally touches skin.
The city woke into effort.
Not crisis.
Not collapse.
Effort.
The benches were still there, but fewer people sat. The canopy still stood, but shadows stretched past it as people gathered elsewhere. Water circulated again—but now it came from backpacks, bottles, hands reaching across small distances without waiting for a crate to arrive.
No one announced the change.
No one needed to.
Arjun stretched his arms as we walked the street.
"Feels heavier today."
"Yes," I said.
"And more honest."
✦
Endurance doesn't feel heroic while it's happening.
It feels inconvenient.
The clinic line moved slower without centralized cues. People asked questions again—sometimes the same ones twice. A volunteer sighed, then answered patiently anyway.
Someone dropped a box.
Another person picked it up.
No system.
No signal.
