This blurry photo was taken an hour ago. It doesn’t show much, but behind it is a moment I’ll probably never forget. I was out getting groceries when it started raining—really pouring. The kind of rain that soaks you in seconds. Normally, I love the rain. It makes me feel calm, even happy, I play under it like a child. But then thunder hit. Loud. Sudden. Almost violent. And for a moment, I wasn’t in Spain anymore. It sounded exactly like a bomb. Before I could think, my body reacted, I dropped everything I was carrying and crouched down in the middle of the street, arms over my head. My heart was racing, my hands shaking. I was in full panic mode barely able to catch a breath. Someone came up to me—a woman I’ll probably never see again—and gently told me to get up, that it was too cold. That small act pulled me back long enough to grab my things and sprint away. Everyone else had stopped moving, taking shelter under cafes’ umbrella or near malls. The rain was so heavy you couldn’t really see where you were going. But I kept walking. Running, actually. I just wanted to get home. I didn’t want to hear another thunderclap. I didn’t want to feel that panic again. People on the street told me to be careful. I wasn’t sure what they meant, but I heard them. I just.. I kept going. When I finally got to my room (soaked, freezing) I stood there for a while. I could feel tears coming. Not from the cold. From something deeper. It’s moments like these that make me realize how trauma never really leaves your body. It hides. It waits. And then one loud sound brings it all back. I don’t know if we’ll ever fully heal. But I know I’m not alone in feeling this. Ps: my hands and body are still shaking until now, could be the cold, but it could be something else I might not want to fully admit just yet.