I have been wondering if I am better. First thing in the morning, a joke bursts out of my mouth. Midday the clock surprises me with its vigor and silence. Afternoons I’m not so frightened, and I can peer through the fog if I squint. Evenings I sip strawberry water and think of vodka but I do not crack. Midnights I dream and laugh myself awake. Mornings I duck into the bright hall and don’t always remember the pain that shuttered me in, the old tunnel from bed to bed. Hours and minutes have my permission to pique my curiosity.
