I’m pretty sure it’s not time to wake up yet, so I will just keep my eyes closed and pretend like I will go back to sleep.

I still don’t know what to wear. I will just keep looking like a tree.

Not enough coffee. “I’m getting a cup of coffee. Can I bring you some?” “Yes.”

I think they like us. I think they really like us.

Play, play, play.

She’s gone. And that was so fast. So fast. So fast. Too fast.

So dark. I thought there would be sun. No sun. Just clouds. Quiet.

Ready for wine.

Bone broth in the chicken noodle soup. All the difference.

“Writing this letter is like putting a note in a bottle—/And hoping/It will reach Japan.” - Alice Munro