Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Thirty-Nine
It still feels warm.
A pan of bacon, a bowl of eggs, a loaf of bread.
Another canceled meeting. That just means I can get through these emails more quickly.
The energy is just weird.
Pink crocs on dusty pavement. Up ahead is someone in a motorized chair and a woman is walking beside her. They pause and look up at a tree before starting again. A man is watering a small patch of flowers at the front of his driveway. We both smile and nod at one another. The horizon is hazy, like vintage film. It’s probably haze from a fire. Vineyards and fruit trees and the quiet.
I should do this more often.
He says I frowned when I said her name. “I did? I hate that I don’t have a poker face.”
I had promised myself I would practice a different response.
He exchanges the fudge.
They do always say “thank you,” but this time he also gives me a hug.
