Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Seventy-Five
Monday, Monday, Monday.
The time will pass anyway.
It could be me, but I don’t think it is as hard as they think it needs to be.
Uh-oh.
I find a chair in the sun on the other side of the building. On the other side of the railing is a tiny block of vines. The sound of cars making their way up and down Highway 29.
“I don’t forget who I am.”
My last one as president.
I tell him that I miss my daily phone calls with Julie. My mornings are just not the same.
Be collaborative.
Almost.