Sam’s Journal of Survival

Presence

012926. This journal is fiction. The voice you’re reading is a character, not the author.

Presence

There is something I have noticed, and I am not sure what to make of it yet.

When I am around the investigator, my body reacts differently.

Not dramatically. Not all at once. Just a slight shift. A loosening I usually do not feel around men.

He is kind. Careful. Respectful in a way that does not call attention to itself. He has never asked me out. Never crossed a line. Never reached for me or stood too close.

And yet, there is a steady presence about him. Protective, without being possessive. Attentive, without demanding anything in return.

When he is nearby, I notice that my shoulders lower. My breath settles. I do not feel watched or measured. I do not feel like I owe him anything.

That surprises me.

I do not know what it means. I am not rushing to name it. I am not imagining futures or testing boundaries.

I am simply noticing.

It may be nothing more than feeling safe around someone who respects space. Or it may be something else. A small signal from my body that it remembers how to rest in the presence of another person.

I am not ready to decide.

But I think this is something I should talk about with my therapist when I see him next month. Not because it needs to become anything, but because it exists.

And noticing that feels important.

For now, I am content to let the feeling remain what it is.

Quiet. Unnamed.
Present.