Tonight he came into work…the older gentleman at work who was sent to the ER last week due to some complications he was having.

I’ve refrained from getting an update on him because I’m still healing myself and to hear bad news concerning him might impede my ability to stay on the slow but upward trend.

I did know they sent him home though. And I’m thinking it’s because there’s nothing else they can do for home.

Tonight when he walked in, he was bloated and much paler than usual. He also looked very void of emotions as I threw my hands up and smiled brightly at him, which broke my heart..,not because he didn’t meet my happiness, but because I knew in that moment my thinking was right.


I didn’t want to stay in that hard reality for any longer than needed because I still had a good hour to get through, so I started popping my rag at my son. It was the first thing I could think of to retreat to a childlike state where things felt less scary in life.

My son aimed for my chest but couldn’t quite nail the whipping effect of the towel. I told him if he was going to aim for my tits that I was going to aim for his balls.

I geared up, and snapped his chest with the corner of my wet rag. The sound was sharp. And very loud. …he felt that in his knees.

The older gentlemen saw the whole thing and said I didn’t get his balls. I said, “Well, I got him in the chesticles then.” And just like that, his eyes started to smile as he began to laugh.

…it was the best part of my night.