No, that’s not right.
She thinks I’m not accessing it.
There’s a difference, apparently. One I’m supposed to figure out on a forty-minute walk through Philadelphia in February while a serial killer somewhere in this city knows my name and my boss covers up murders and I’m carrying a dead woman’s ring around my neck.
No pressure.
But the thing is, I’ve lived in the city my whole life. Walking with awareness is second nature to me. My mom always just told me to walk with confidence. To walk like I belong exactly where I am and deserve the space I’m in.
“Fake it till you make it,baby girl.”Mom used to say. “Predators can smell fear.”
So I learned not to show it.
I’ve always lived that truth.
I spent a long time practicing that walk too. Shoulders back. Chin level with the sidewalk. Never once dipping my head. Eyes forward. Purpose in every step.
Even when I felt off, I kept my chin level. Kept moving like I owned the block.
Once in line for coffee, some woman even turned to me and complimented me on my confidence.
I guess I just pretended for so long that I became that confident woman I wanted to be.
But hiding fear isn’t the same as not feeling it. And feeling it isn’t the same as trusting it.
I was twelve when I learned to do this. When Daddy died and the world stopped feeling safe. When I realized that knowing something terrible was coming didn’t protect you fromit happening. So I built this armor. This walk. This version of Dylan who belongs everywhere and fears nothing.
I performed her so well I forgot she wasn’t real.
And now Alex is asking me to shed that armor and feel everything I’ve spent fifteen years pretending not to feel.
So what am I missing?
I pass a corner store on 9th. The owner is outside smoking, leaning against the brick. He nods at me. I nod back automatically.
Keep walking.
A shout behind me—some guy yelling at his friend—and I step to my left as someone rushes past me. Kid on a skateboard, can’t be more than sixteen, sailing past like the sidewalk’s a highway.
Wait. Was that it?
No. I don’t think that’s what she’s referring to.
That was just... awareness. Normal city-living awareness. Don’t get run over by skateboarders. Don’t walk into people. Basic stuff.
Alex believes I’m not tapping into the core of my intuition.
But how can I tap in when I have no idea what that even looks like? Alex lives on vibes and tarot cards and knowing things. I just... exist. Put one foot in front of the other. Survive.
Why does that suddenly feel so depressing?
Frowning, I pause at the streetlight and wait for the walk signal.
I blink.
And sounds rush at me.
Not that I didn’t hear the sounds prior to that moment. But I hear them differently now. Like I’ve been filtering them out this whole time and suddenly the filter’s gone.
