Leaving, as she did, she said, don’t worry, it will be fine.
I was not fine, though.
The door closed, or, just about closed behind her and I had to walk over there to close it all the way. I could see her waiting at the elevator, her back to me. I couldn’t see if she had tears or not.
I had tears.
But then again, I usually do.

Sensitive is what they say, they being friends. They also say you’re so positive, always an optimistic outlook about life.

B: I didn’t know what to say, but I wanted to tell you that I admire your optimism.
Me: Thanks. But I also don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do. Can you tell me?

It goes like this, it goes without saying, it goes down the drain. Then, all of a sudden you wake up one morning and it seems, well, not so bad. You manage. The day moves through you, it comes and goes and ends and while you’re there on the sofa reading or watching Netflix, or just waiting for a reasonable time to go to bed and not feel like a grandpa, you realize that it’s ok and that you probably will be ok.

You just hope that also, she is ok.