Out of coffee. I dig out the Nespresso, fill it with fresh water, and then walk away.

Frantically trying to move all of the clothes off of the floor and stuffing the laundry room.

I rub his shoulder to wake him up. The first thing he says to me is, “Can we talk more about the house tonight? Just talk about some plans?”

I see the text as I walk back into the house. Throw-up. Need stomach medicine.

I start to talk but I can’t.

Who said it was supposed to rain?

It’s just been a very long week. A very long week.

Still sound like a frog.

I never did make that Nespresso. Is that why I feel like crying? The lack of caffeine?

We sit and listen and wait. We text each other in between. We make side-eye glances and roll our eyes. Others speak. I feel the energy shift within my body. We are supported. They are all on our side.

“10 years from now, 20 years from now, 30 years from now, [the children] who experience racism will remember it for the rest of their lives. The perpetrators will not.”

Change is slow but it is in motion. That was worth sitting for 2.5 hours on a Thursday night.

I tell him that I’m so tired that I could cry.