Learning to breathe again

I sat with two of the freed developers today.

They spoke little, their words halting. But their eyes told more than anything. One cried when we brought coffee—said it smelled “real.” Another stared at a laptop for an hour before typing a single line: print(“hello world”).

They’re learning to breathe again, to trust the world around them. Every gesture is fragile, like waking from a dream too long held.

I don’t know how many will ever fully heal. But every moment spent with them reminds me why we fight.

They are not just data points or names on my wall. They are people. And people can return.