The coffee cup rings on my notebook smear the ink on the page, blurring one day into the next. My life has followed similar suit recently. One day I was the person that I thought I was. And then 5 years later, I am this unfamiliar person I have become. I sat in the tub for three hours and cried tonight. I’m not sure if it’s the relief of the finality I feel, or the unknown terror I now face. Or maybe it’s just the fact that I moved in the heat of the desert, 117 at it’s hottest point, and my body is reacting to the stress of the event. Whatever the culprit, it’s as if a giant fist swooped in and took an enormous chunk out of my belly, leaving me nothing but a gaping wound to contend with.
Macy is madly burying cookies in the sofa in order to make it home. She too, is feeling displaced. And I’m not much consolation to her tonight.