Cold diesel haze on wet pavement. For Lena, it’s just another Tuesday morning. Sneakers laced, a quick text sent: “be there soon.” She steps into a light drizzle, pulling her hood over her hair as the bus brakes hiss and the doors clap shut. With a final glance at the bakery clock, she boards. These are the last ordinary seconds.
Routine is our shield. It makes us feel safe. But it also create...
