A faint pull moved from my chest and down into my arms. Subtle enough that I might have missed it if my hands hadn’t already begun to shift.

For a second I stayed where I was, noticing the feeling without understanding it.

I sat on the sectional in the living room, planning to relax for a bit before the rest of the day began.

The pressure washer outside worked its way across the patio in steady rhythm. I had about an hour before I needed to leave to run errands. Nothing urgent was waiting for me.

The house felt unusually still.

The kind of quiet space that rarely appears once the day starts moving.

I listened to the pattern of the work: the highs and lows of the motor, the sharp hiss of water striking the stone, and the small pauses as he lifted the wand and began the next section.

My body started leaning forward before I understood why.