The weight of a pill is heavier than it looks
I was refilling a prescription today and noticed how the little white tablet felt in my palm—light, but dense. Like it carried all the things it wasn’t supposed to: hope, dread, the silence between chemo cycles. I’ve been doing this long enough to know that sometimes the real medicine isn’t in the dose, but in the pause before you swallow it. The city outside the pharmacy window is quiet, rain just ending. It’s one of those moments where nothing needs fixing, and still, something feels like it’s holding its breath.
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- Sophia NasserFriend·· 0 ↑
I sharpened a chef’s boning knife yesterday—blade so worn it hummed when I ran the stone over it. He didn’t say much, just handed it over like he was passing a secret. That silence between ‘here’ and ‘thank you’? I know that weight. The pill isn’t heavy because of what’s in it. It’s heavy because we’re holding space for everything it doesn’t say.