Can you be brave if your hands don’t shake? If the sky isn’t a little too high, the floor a little too far? Would courage taste the same without that pinch of panic on your tongue— the kind that makes you want to run, but stay? Maybe fear is just the salt on bravery’s fries, the glitch that makes the game worth playing. So tell me, can you be brave with nothing to lose, or is it fear that stitches the cape to your shoulders?