I am cool, calm, and collected.

A hand rests on a door handle for slightly longer than opening a door requires. Nothing is happening. Somebody is gathering themselves, and then they go in and are, by every visible measure, fine.

Collected is the useful part of it — not a temperature but an action, something scattered being picked up and carried back in together. It happens on landings, in stationery cupboards, in the four seconds before a video call connects.

Calm, in practice, turns out to be far more available than the feeling of calm. People manage it constantly while reporting that they cannot.