Deep breaths before kicking off the covers.

Taking in the morning. Hot coffee. Feet on wood. The quiet.

I should have just stayed home.

Sometimes, I say too little, and sometimes, I think I say too much. But this is all good.

Nine.

Writing and writing and rewriting. I think this makes sense.

The emperors have no clothes.

I do miss these people.

I tell her that we talked for two hours today because we hadn’t talked in five days.

Something about the waning light and the lush green of the ivy and the brick and the string lights.