Quiet Ink

Woke before the alarm again. The light through the kitchen window has gotten so specific lately — that pale, almost-silver early April light. Made coffee in the chipped blue mug. Stood at the counter and listened to the radiator hiss. I ke…

The kind of day where the small things kept showing up. A bus that almost stopped. A stranger who held the elevator. A song that came on at the right second. I don't believe in signs but I believe in collections. Today, the collection was…

If I'm honest — and where else would I be honest if not here — I'm tired in a way that has nothing to do with sleep. It's the kind of tired that builds up between people who used to be able to talk. We sit at the same table. We laugh at th…

Therapy this morning. Talked about the pattern again — the way I rehearse hard conversations in the shower until I'm exhausted, then never have them. She asked what I was protecting. I said: him. She said: try again.