Thinking: is this how it's going to be? Nothing safe anymore -- grief in ambush, whether in a well-worn story or in the song just purchased?
Thinking: doors, closing. You're inside, or out.
Thinking: what kind of person lets her friend die without saying goodbye?
Thinking: somewhere -- on the cusp of night, in the indigo line on the horizon.
Thinking: this has cured me of my taste for drama.
Thinking: we get used to it, and maybe that's worse.
Thinking: but this small, silent space around my heart was not there twelve months ago; now it's here to stay.
Thinking: tomorrow, it will be better. And it is.