Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Sixty-Four
This morning, I feel mist on my face.
The upward climb.
Sobering conversations.
Why do the squirrels look so big these days? I keep thinking I’m seeing small cats out of the corner of my eye.
Building resilience?
She says I need to create space.
Chicken tikka masala.
Car full of girls. Unexpected slow jams on the playlist.
Something is not right, and I know I’ll never get the full truth.
The anger expressed outwardly is representative of all that lies within.
