Monday, August 06, 2007

Haywire

The first signs are a dull ache radiating from my temples and sudden dryness of the mouth. I lie back and try to wait it out. I think of you, of what you'd say to me if you were here. I wonder if you'd be concerned.

When the worst passes, I stand up and walk around, as if to assure myself that I still can. Maybe someday I won't be able to. Somehow I'm not sure you'd stick around for that, for me.

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