The bite of the chill.

The floorboard heater is burning the tops of my toes.

Always just a few more things I need to do that can’t get done.

I can’t help myself and get two OG donuts.

I tell her that I’ve already made peace with the fact that I have to leave. That I’m not even cleaning, just thinking about what needs to go in the trash so I can prepare to pack.

I tell her that there were moments I didn’t know if it was the right thing to do. But I’m still glad we did it.

I just need space to visualize what could be next.

We figured it out. We figured it out. I send him an email with a lot of exclamation marks.

Perception.

Very tired.