, , , , ,

I work in silences punctuated with polite good mornings.

My only noises are the computer keyboard clicks.

I eaves drop on my boss next door waiting to overhear the beginning of my end, instead I hear a lot of Nina Simone, Adele, and…

“She said, ‘I love you, but it’s not working out.’ I want her to love me enough to work it out. She never does.”

I just want to reach into your frontal lobe and Reiki your brain until your synaptic gaps fire heart healing.

Instead, you give me the next invoice, and I smile and say politely, “Good Morning,” without any knowing inflections and with fingers twitching.