I have nerves gnawing at my fingertips, and a pit lying heavy in my stomach. It is there, a pendulous black cloud on the periphery of vision. It is there, but hard to pinpoint.

Always when it gets to the day before, my pendulum mind swings between two extremes, the one ending with a white meringue dress vision and two blue lines (THE blue lines!), the other with a phone call and tears and

and then what?

This, these uncertainties, the metaphysics of dependability, is why two never make a whole.

Two will always only ever be two.

At least when a is 500 miles deplaced from b.

It is important always to bear in mind that the body is a bunch of chemicals, and nothing else…