I thought I had become immune, hardened.
But I cried today,
for you.


I saw it in his eyes.
He was finished.
Had reached the end of his rope.


In the back alley—in the alcove—hidden from the public eye by the dumpster, I find it.

The Dress

I am afraid you are going to do it.
And you are afraid of doing it.

The Unveiling

It was like looking at a drawing in progress, a child’s drawing, from very close up. I was bent over it, watching the lines take shape.