Ten.Two Thousand
Going somewhere where I really feel like sweatpants are completely acceptable.
I run through various scenarios in my head. I do not apologize in any of them.
Hot air balloons.
There are still forty-nine minutes to go.
Girls’ games on court five. I watch and analyze and cheer more than the parents on the makeshift bleachers.
Hungry but not for gym pretzels and muffins.
In-n-Out.
I open my eyes and see nothing but rows and rows of trees. Almond trees? Green trees in perfect rows and blue skies with puffy clouds and Kendrick Lamar playing quietly.
One week or three? He chooses three, naturally.
Something has to change.
