This covers the week of 1/26/20 - 2/1/20.
Who does he talk to when he needs to confide in someone? Who do I talk to?
I hear what sounds like a ghost moaning, but it's just a bus easing up to the curb late at night.
What is the phenomenon of trees holding onto their brown, shriveled leaves in the winter?
A narrow metal shelf bulging with cartons of chocolate milk.
Refusing to stay in the bitter overflow of another person's emotions.
They present us with a packet of forms and with a platter of purple grapes and potato chips that aren't really potato chips but are supposedly something healthier. The meeting is much like the one months ago. Similar concerns raised, the same pairs of hands tied, but at least we're venting a little.
They remind me that they still know I exist. Now and then, I flicker into their awareness.