She closed the book and set it down on the table beside her. The morning light had shifted while she was reading, moving from the windowsill to the floor to the edge of the couch where she sat curled under a blanket, a cup of cold tea forgotten at her elbow. She had read the final chapter, the one about the final yes, and she had felt something shift inside her. Not a dramatic, earth shattering revelation. Something quieter. A settling. A sense that the questions she had been asking for months, for years perhaps, had finally found their answers. Not the answers she had expected, or the ones she had been hoping for, but the ones that were true. And the truth, she had learned, was the only foundation worth building on.
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