You are mostly afraid.
What appears to be solid and trustworthy, just isn’t. Again.
The world is adrift. Kicked hard and off-balance, trembling and reeling. The air shaky like summer heat on pavement, the unseen static of fear.
“It will be all right. It will be all right.”
You yearn for a mother’s arms. To assure you that the nightmare you-can’t-quite-shake the-image-of, will go away soon.
Her breath, soft above you.
Her skin, warm aside your cheek
Her blood thrumming a steady, strong seashell sound inside your ear
And you are comforted. For a time.