We need to talk.
I finished my pad thai. Washed the fork. Put the container in the recycling.
Then I typed back: No. We don’t.
I turned off my phone and went to bed.
Bolt curled up on the pillow next to me. He purred like a small engine. I lay there in the dark of my apartment, in my city, in my life, and I thought about Dr. Pruitt’s yellow legal pad continue reading …
