I work. I walk. I write.
I am at the bottom of the ocean. There is a bag here.
I consume it.
The world explodes with sound and light and pain.
Sounds are everywhere. Feelings are everywhere.
The pain becomes clear.
The Sun angled across the curled steel warehouse door as I tried to keep my pace even. Step step.
In front stepped a young woman, circling around her belongings thrown on the sidewalk up ahead. Step step.
Hi, I’m happily married at 48, and just got out of a toxic relationship.
A puzzled look appears on her face.
Yeah. It was bad. 40 years.
Her face lights up. “Who with?”