Ten.Two Thousand, Six Hundred & Fifteen
Turn off the alarm.
8:15 a.m. and still laying in bed. Staring at the ceiling and listing gratitudes.
I should quit Instagram, too.
In search of fudge and this week’s newspaper.
A big old rainbow. And then more rain.
What is next?
I think about how there are only three more years after this.
Waffle fries and honey mustard.
One last sit in front of the fire before bed.
“One Middletown is all you need this year.”