My drafting folder is getting bigger. I fear the size, and what it implies. It’s just 3, but that is 3 too many!
I am unsure if I am daydreaming of my childhood or if I am dreaming of having kids of my own.
The passage of time wears heavy on your friends’ shoulders.
It’s one foot after another, it’s about keeping her head down, nose to grindstone. But can she actually breathe?
