The 1st of November.

Maybe today is the day he will return.

Losing track of time. And now there’s a backpack to pick up. And treats to buy.

Alone again but not quiet. Chainsaws and hammers and muffled murmurs from below.

There are so many other more important things. So many other things on which I would rather spend my energy.

Early release.

He’s still there. That’s a good sign.

Already so much whistle-blowing.

It’s not a punishment. It’s just life.

A difficult conversation is easy when you’re speaking from your truth.