everything is fine

We laughed as we drove. The road stretched out in front of us, silence punctuated with green fireflies floating overhead. The music carried on quietly in the background, just audible over the steady rumble of the car. I tried to remember the last time we'd spoken so frankly but nothing came to mind. It was a simple realization. We'd never really spoken before. So many similar and even shared experiences that we had never tried to connect over. So many opportunities for bonding squandered. We were entirely different people yet somehow almost exactly the same. "So, five or six months, right?" I asked. "How serious are you and Kara?" He paused for a moment. "What do you mean, serious?" I kept my eyes on the road. The streetlights whipped past like slow motion strobe flashes. "What do you think I mean, serious?" I could see him turn to look at me in my peripheral vision. "I mean," he said. His voice suddenly had gravity. "We

The ribbon is failing. The letters barely register on the paper despite the reassuring click-clack of the keys. The metal grinds and creaks. The letters are ghosts on my canvas, faint echoes of ideas and words struggling to overcome age and inherent neglect. Click-clack. The paper travels steadily across my field of view, accelerated by dedication and patience and a strange willingness to sort through feelings and thoughts. Two of the keys stick. I reach in and flip the arms back. Click-clack. Writing with a purpose. Ding. I push the carriage back and continue typing. It takes effort to press the keys down, there's a greater distance to travel before the letters swing up and strike the paper. You really have to want to write. The ribbon refuses to stay in place for any useful period of time. Most of what I write is lost as faint blemishes on the page. It does not discourage me. The sun sets quietly outside of my window but I am preoccupied. I am collected and focused. Finally, I fi

"That's right! I remember now! His name is GAYMAN!!" I had to brace myself against the streetlight because I was laughing so hard. The more I thought about it, the funnier it got. "GAYMAN!? Let me think... Oh, right! I told you to come!" I couldn't help but snicker about it while we waited for the bus to arrive. And I couldn't help but giggle to myself on the bus. And I couldn't help but burst out laughing again on my way to work. I mean, come on. That's hilarious. I don't remember when I grew up, probably because I try so hard not to. I desperately don't want to accept the fact that I can't be eight forever. I remember when they took nap time away. Then they took snack time away. Then they took recess away. There was a time when I couldn't fathom spending my time anywhere besides the playground. Or not reading books for fun. Or spending my weekends working. And, yet, here I am. At work in my funny shirt and raggedy jeans, draggin