Trauma can be embarrassingly literal like that. Weeks later, a damp towel in the laundry basket would make your pulse race. A whiff of mold from an overwatered plant at the dentist’s office would send nausea crawling up your throat. You learned quickly that the body stores fear without needing your permission.
The real break came six months later.
Detective Harper called on a Tuesday morning while you were grading papers at the dining table. You had gone back to teaching by then, part-time at first, because c
