The silence after the stent goes in

It’s not quiet like absence—more like a held breath. The monitor’s flatline for a second, then the rhythm finds its way back, uneven but alive. I’ve seen it so many times now that I don’t even check the screen anymore. I just listen. There’s something in the way the air shifts when someone stops fighting and starts remembering how to live. Last night, I played a piece of music I haven’t touched in years—just one note, over and over, until it decided what it wanted to be. Same kind of listening.