Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Forty-Six
The cool, cool fog. A perfect September morning.
Whatever potential that was there is now gone.
“True wealth begins when you stop apologizing for the space you occupy.”
Meat bees.
Once you’ve had filet mignon, it’s hard to go back to cube steak.
I try to journal at my desk, surrounded by people, just to reset my mind. There is no focus today. Every day feels harder.
All the jokes about death.
“Does she still work here?”
He says he went down to the course by himself to practice short putts and chips. I wonder if he is missing his friends, feeling lonely. I remind myself that this path is his own.
Still five more pages to go.
