I have been feeling it for some time now, but like the unwanted stare of a stranger, I have turned away, denying it. I have felt the gentle, yet persistent tug, but have been unwilling to face it. This hand that beckons grips me without touching, it is pointing rather than pulling. I move forward with the days concentrating on keeping pace, not getting ahead or anticipating. It seems enough to offer just enough resistance to keep from speeding, so fast have these last few years been. No one seems to be bothering me with this uncharacteristic slowness, no one is asking me to hurry. Today it hit me that they are unworried because they are not here. No one is watching or judging.…

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