flying and crying
In Chicago. Apparently my favored activity while suspended thousands of miles in the air with someone’s elbow in my armpit is, now, to cry- silently, with dignity- while curled under a long black woolen coat.
I miss him.
I broke my record player.
I lost my phone.
If you are trying to contact me and I seem to be ignoring you this weekend, that’s why.
See a few of y’all with my sodden coat tomorrow night.