I close my eyes and I think of it. I’m crying over a piece of glass. My tears well up in little pools, my eyes swell up after the storm. My arms are weak and shaking hard. My fingers barely have control. I know this walk isn’t anything new but the leaves have fallen since I’ve been here and I feel that fresh crunch under each footstep. The growth of months building up to an intricate pattern just to be smashed by my size twelves. Even my deep breathes, holding in, breathing out, cannot encapsulate all of that work.
You’re my best friend and I’ve never met you.