Ten.Seven Hundred & Seventy-Seven
Quiet. No dogs barking—yet. I open up the windows to let in the cool morning air.
Tulsi tea. Not even missing coffee. That’s a lie. I do miss coffee. But I’m not desperate for it. That’s a lie. I am desperate for a cup of it on a morning that calls for a sweater and a near-empty to-do list.
It’s nice to be a passenger.
I just don’t think I could ever get over this.
Syrah, syrah, and more syrah.
I may or may not know what I’m talking about.
How much longer?
Hammock time. It’s been too long. The sound of the air conditioning kicking on keeps waking me.