She dreams a little, and she feels the dark encroachment of that old catastrophe, as a calm darkens among water-lights.


You know that feeling. It's when you are so nervous and anxious that your stomach contorts and you can't eat anything, or sleep very well, or even speak to someone without a pained hand pressed to your side?

Well, it's gone now.

Today one of my friends slipped a card under my door. Feel better, it said, I love you. Today my friend Ashley called me about seventeen times to make sure I was okay. Carolyn leaves me songs on my answering machine. Today, someone held me close and told me that he wouldn't hurt me. And something broke and was pinned back up, instantaneously.

And all is well and not well and all is fine yet a little frayed

(but well)