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not cluttering up the conversation with platitudes.
loner of the group. In his contradictory way, he loved a crowd but kept everyone at a distance.
the strange quiet of a recent snow.
the respect they thought they were due.
“The elusive hunt for happiness,”
blissfully ignorant. A reckoning was coming,
in a clumsy effort
To paraphrase my son: “Duh.”
fueled by too much wine and, for lack of a better excuse, a midlife crisis.
Memories formed under intense emotions are seared into our thoughts, branded by the hot iron of trauma.
He was a different person now. Not a better person, different.
he was a rare commodity in this world: a good listener.
getting stonewalled.
Wanna drink about it?”
