(I wrote this on a plane just about a month ago, and then forgot about it. Then, last night, I found it again.)

On the last day, Seattle was exactly like it’s supposed to be: gray. We put our names in for brunch. (“Half an hour.” “Oh, that’s not bad at all!” “For Seattle, half an hour is the…

Beautiful and truthful.

What is writing right now? Nothing I want to do. There are feelings to feel.