Trust has become hard to bargain. Renovating my house made of glass, to have doors bolted with heavy metal and the windows elevated so no intruder may peak. And I have become anxious. Every knock on my door sounds like the cocking of a pistol. Knots formed in my throat, halting my respiration. My heart is erratic as I stand on my toes to look out the window. My mind is racing. Do I open the door? Or do I not? Will this turn fatal?

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