I wake up after a dream with a burger patty the size of a plate, topped with ketchup, shoestring fries on the side. I am eating it with a fork.

Let’s hope the drain-o worked last night.

Dark, dark, morning. Where is the light?

Oh, wait, it’s Thursday. I’ll clean today. The sun is coming.

The coolness of the slate. The philodendron curling up in the sun.

They eat the leftover wings and I grab the ribs and sauce and go to my room. .

I find the light.

I remember that there’s still soup from night before so I pull out the pot and warm that instead. No work to do after all.

I think about conversation. About lineage, about protecting ourselves through instinct, about the truth that you don’t have to like everyone and everyone will not like you but that you can still respect one another’s work. We talked about Patreon, and other projects and ideas, about how children make you older that you intended to be.

I fight the urge to fall asleep too soon.