Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Eleven
Did not expect the gray sky.
What is right and necessary?
The joy of realizing it’s wint-o-green and not peppermint.
Off and I can feel it. I’ll come around.
You can be glad that it’s over and sad that it happened.
It’s the uncertainty of it all.
I sit back in the chair and watch the ripples in the fountain. The music is loud. People playing corn hole. People playing soccer. Tug-o-War. Just enough cloud cover to diffuse the sun. A breeze.
But all I can see are the highlighted squares in that Figma spreadsheet.
Four is always the minimum and that makes four.
No words. No words. No words.