Ten.One Thousand, Six Hundred & Sixty-One
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So cold.
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Coffeecake from a box while the coffee brews.
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I stuff my bag with things for the day: a computer, a water bottle, a notebook, leftover caesar salad, a tote bag full of snacks for the bus ride home.
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No Zooms until after lunch.
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I tell him that I am still angry. So angry that I could cry.
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The crunch of gravel underfoot. The warmth of the sun. Clear blue sky. The yellow of the mustard.
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Always waiting for one.
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I take the blame on this one. I could have done something different. She tells me that there really wasn’t much more I could have done.
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She says she’s reading James Patterson. We laugh. Then they talk about books and how expensive it is to them. I tell them about Thriftbooks. “I’m just glad to hear you spend money on books,” I say. “Well, I spend money on other things, too,” she says.
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So, so hungry.