Of saddles uneasily sat in again, trash day, and other people’s stuff.

  1. I miss this.
  2. Skimming across the last four years, I watch my patterns shift. Where summers once were borderline-manic frenzies of productivity, they’re now creatively fallow but connectively rich—laying seed for harvesting in fall and spring.
  3. Winter still blows, though.
  4. I am oddly comfortable in the silence. The tissue of my soul flushes and plumps as it quenches a long-ignored thirst.
  5. “They’re never going to take those, bro,” I murmur to myself. “You’re gonna need some tags.”
  6. I’m grateful to be sweating in September.
  7. She cries in front of us—total strangers—eyes brimming with years of isolation and wondering if they’ll be okay, if she’s scarred them for life. She fits right in.
  8. Another round.
  9. I hate that my initial reaction to her strong emotions is annoyance. Where does that come from? Where am I hurt so badly?
  10. Half a glass. Any time I pour wine, I wonder if it’s good or bad. I wonder what her thoughts would be.

Author: Ellie

Uppity stardust. Will eat (almost) anything.

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