Roch

“Armand felt his skin tingle, and the sudden overwhelming need to get up. To go. To do something. To stop it. It was like an out-of-body experience, so powerful was the urge to act.

He gripped the edge of the bench, closed his eyes, and did as Myrna had taught him.
Deep breath. In. And out.

“And don’t just breathe,” he heard her calm, melodic voice. “Inhale. Take in the smells. Listen to the sounds. The real world. Not the one you’re conjuring.”

He breathed in, and smelled the pine forest, smelled the damp earth. Felt the cool, fresh morning air on his cheeks. He heard, far off, the excited yapping of a puppy. And he followed that back. The puppy led him through the howls and shrieks and alarms in his head.
He held on to the sound. To the scents. As Myrna had taught him.

“Follow anything you can,” she’d advised. “Back to reality. Back from the edge.” And he did. Deep breath in. The cut grass, the sweet hay by the side of the road. Deep breath out.

And finally, when the alarms were dulled and his heart stopped pounding, pounding, he thought he could hear the forest itself. The leaves not rustling, but murmuring to him. Telling him he’d made it. Home. He was safe…And once again he was saved. He was surprised by joy.”
― Louise Penny, The Long Way Home