She tells me her nervous system is calm.

She is ready to work and asks if I would like some help calming mine.

I am conscious of the fluttering of my heart,

Hot flush in my cheeks.

My fingers twist and twist and twist the hairband,

Winding it ever tighter,

Toe tips flying across the floor in couplets,

Must never break rhythm of two or four.

Maybe it’s these things that tell her

Or simply her knowing that change in plans, interruption, traffic that has made me late

Was always bound to set my teeth on edge.

I remind myself that her nervous system is calm,

Not angry or anxious or any other form of tumultuous.

Here she has extended me her hand so-to-speak, help.

All I must do is take it.

I simply must say “yes.”

“She is not like the others,” I tell myself.

“No mask required. No danger lurking.”

I really do mean to say “yes.”

The word on the tip of my tongue,

But I open, and out tumbles “No, thank you. I’ll be fine in a minute.”