Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Twenty-Seven
Small things done consistently.
So cold. So wet.
I walk out of the bathroom and spot her, out of uniform, in gym class. “Where’s your gym shirt?” I say as she pretends not to see me.
The truth is that there really isn’t much I would change. I want to repeat and refine.
Slow it down.
The first emails for the spring session.
I hear the man say that he cooks every morning and that he’s the kind of person who needs to clean the pan before he eats. Same, sir. Same.
I keep moving these random post-its around my desk. They are full of scribblings from the audiobooks I’ve been listening to over the past few months.
I tell him that I’m done making decisions today.
Why do I feel like I’m forgetting something?
