Weekend Writing Prompt #470

Inkling

An Inkling arrived quietly, like a feather brushing thought. Nothing loud, nothing certain—just a soft nudge beneath the ordinary.

I have learned to trust those moments, the strange knowing without proof, the feeling that something unseen is rearranging itself in silence.

Sometimes intuition speaks in whispers, asking only to be noticed. A pause. A turn of the head. A path chosen for reasons the mind cannot explain.

And later, looking back, you realize the soul knew first, long before fear stopped asking questions.

With love

— Maggie The Afterlove Voice 💫

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