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After dropping my grandson off for basketball, I came back to the house for something to eat.

Then, I went upstairs, sat in the comfortable chair with the copper-colored threads running through it, picked up Cunningham's novel, The Hours, and read.

I got to the part where Richard is precariously perched on the window sill of his 5th floor apartment and Clarissa is talking to him, begging him to come back in.

He asks her for a story, something from her day, and she tells it. Then begs him to come back in.

He says he doesn't think he can make it to the party and she tells him that he doesn't have to. And begs him to come back in.

Then, he falls from the window to the pavement below and my eyes close tightly and a voice, I think it was mine, says, "Oh no." Just, "Oh, no."

After that, I put a marker in the book and closed it and walked over to the computer and sat. For a moment or two, I just sat.

Then, I started to type. My eyes were streaming and I typed.

You had told me that this would happen and I didn't listen...

LPK
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11.11.2017

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