I could get up but I don’t want to.

I stare at the ceiling fan. I fluff the blanket and feel a rush of cool air against the skin.

Slugs. A lot of slugs. I take care not to step on the snails. The tomatoes need water. I’m worried about the heat and the wind.

That’s disappointing but not surprising. I’m beginning to understand.

So much truth.

I lose track of time in Burgundy.

She’s just as delightful as I remember her from Batonnage. I’m glad we made today work.

I have an itch to get somewhere. I worry about whether or not I will be able to do this, to do the right thing. What even is the right thing?

So hot.

I miss the ocean.