Nothing left to air out

The gum. Washing your hands twice. The window cracked open. The quick breath check into your palm before the door. You got good at it. Good enough that some people still don't know. Good enough that you stopped noticing the effort. You were running two versions of yourself.

Nobody threw a party when the split ended, because nobody saw it. Maybe people noticed the money, or your mood. Nobody said well done on being one person from morning to night. You were press secretary for a cigarette, writing statements and dodging questions. That position has been eliminated.

Every cover story, however small, told you the real you was the one nobody could see. Hear that enough times and you start believing it. Integrity means one piece, undivided. You're one piece now. God saw both rooms the whole time and never once treated you as the lesser version. This is what He was after.

At the very next door, skip the checklist. Hand on the knob. Nothing to hide, nothing to time, nothing to air out. Say one line under your breath on the way in. Here I am, Lord. All of me. Whoever's on the other side gets the whole you, first try.