The path stretched ahead of me in that same quiet, almost suspicious way, as if nothing in the world had changed and I had not just walked out of a clearing where greed itself casually emptied my wallet without even the courtesy of eye contact.
Everything looked normal, and that was exactly what made it feel wrong, because I had learned, very recently and very expensively, that "normal" was just the world's favorite disguise.
I kept walking at a steady pace, not rushing, not dragging my feet, just moving forward with the kind of calm that came from knowing panic would not help and confidence was something I had to fake until it became real.
My eyes moved constantly, not in a frantic way, but in a measured, deliberate rhythm, taking in the trees, the ground, the empty spaces between things, because I no longer trusted emptiness to actually be empty.
