I keep making room for someone who is not coming back. I can keep the bills paid or I can breathe deeply, but not both on the same day. Her coat is still where she left it because moving it feels like agreeing with reality. I know all the account numbers now and I would trade every one of them for one more boring Tuesday. Sometimes grief looks like school pickup and pretending my face is not breaking in public. I am angry at every healthy person talking to me about efficiency.
The Wall
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