Lately, I’ve been noticing the quiet moments more…
It’s late afternoon.
That time when the sky turns into a burst of colors.
You can’t focus on work.
You stand in front of the fridge.
Nothing sounds good.
You aren’t hungry.
But you keep opening the door.
It’s not food you’re looking for.
Not really.
You just want something that feels… right.
Something soft. Something quiet. Something that doesn’t ask anything from you.
The light spills out, cold and a little too bright.
You stare at containers. Leftovers. Fruit you thought you wanted yesterday. That takeout from the other night.
You close the door.
Wait. You stare at the door.
Open it again.
Maybe this time, something will call to you.
It doesn’t.
So you get whatever your hand lands on first.
Then turn away.
Pour a glass of something cold.
Or warm.
Sit down.
And take a bite anyway.
Not because you’re hungry.
But because your body is asking for something your mind hasn’t named yet.
Later, you realize—
it was never about the food.
It was the pause.
The ritual.
The quiet moment between doing and being.
A spoon in a warm bowl.
A book open beside you.
Something familiar. Something gentle.
Something that lets you exist without needing to explain why.
That’s what you were reaching for…
A quiet craving.
--
Lady E
P. S.
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