hiding in plain sight

wearing a mask is easy; taking it off, well, that's where the real courage lives.

The fog hung heavy, smothering the streets in a damp, unrelenting grip.

Sound vanished into it, like the world had forgotten how to echo. Streetlights flickered weakly, their halos trembling as if they, too, wanted to disappear.

The air pressed down, thick and suffocating.

Every breath felt like a question without an answer.

The sounds of my footsteps were swallowed whole. The silence wasn’t empty—it was watching.

I stopped. Exhaled.

My breath formed a ghost and vanished just as fast.

A chill climbed my spine, sharp and insistent, not from the cold but from the weight of something unseen. Someone unseen. It wasn’t paranoia; it was primal.

A gut feeling that tightened like a vice.