Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Forty-Nine
Light.
Bed made. Biscuits in the oven. I am forgetting something.
First one in. I tell her I just needed a little bit of quiet, needed to remove myself from the morning rush of getting everyone to school.
I’d rather spend my time on other things.
But what is next?
I know this about myself: once you’re on “the list,” you’re on “the list,” and there’s no way of removing yourself from it. Once I’ve mentally disengaged, I’m done. Done, done. I hate not caring, but when I don’t care, I really don’t care, and that causes a lot of problems.
What are we even doing here?
Everything on the inside is screaming.
She tells me that the rumor is I kicked her off the team. “Well, that’s true.”
It’s only nine, but it’s the right nine. It’s only eight, but it’s the right eight.
