I’m waiting for the big wail to come. I can feel it sitting in my throat, hunkered down like a cat on its favorite cupboard. But there’s no moving it to my heart and eyes and voice. Hours and hours now. A contented, half-swallowed cherry.
Should I watch a sad movie for you? Do push-ups? Or eat something rotten?
I’m going to bed now but I’ll leave the door open a little. Or at least the key under the mat.