Coffee: Maxwell House Master Blend, Office Coffee
There was a fire smoldering in the pit this morning, lit last night for Thanksgiving, still putting coal smoke in the air. If not for the fire, it would have been crisp. Getting up at 7am to head to work, blue waves of sky beating trees like sea grass. But you could smell the smoke as soon as you opened the door, like nothing’s letting go of last night. Can’t feel fresh and clear while the fire burns.
I took my time at work. A mostly vacant day, people caught up in recovery from last night’s celebrating. I met a man who was starting his own business and a lawyer who’d inherited her client’s trust. Purposeful people, who’d gone through the whole nine yards to put powerful titles beside their names. Professionals. No one talked about turkeys, and when I asked, they each said Thanksgiving had been ‘just fine.’
I got a text from M saying she could see the stars. She’s camping right now so they’re clearer. I thought about blankness, and space, the cold, and how lovely it all seemed, and I thought about the smoldering fire. Grey smoke’s still going. Lighting out the route for tomorrow.
Currently Reading: Another Country, James Baldwin
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I feel like a campfire, like I could burn for days.
Becky Albertalli, Leah on the Offbeat