The gray skies are comforting.

No more peanut butter and chocolate protein shakes. No more avocados. I settle for oatmeal with dried cherries.

She says they’re at the capital today. That Trump is supposed to be there.

If I don’t dance at my desk, I will fall asleep.

“Just bored,” I say. “Just bored.”

Something about all of this feels kind of silly to me. But it’s beeter than what I dealt with before.

Parking lot conversations. It’s cooler than I thought it would be. Sour Cream and Onion chips.

A kick of wind and a broken glass.

Glowing gladiolas.

How seriously should I take this?