The falling satellite. Finding the skin is a cause for alarm. Negan picking tomatoes, giving Lydia advice. Saadiq was experiencing
Sunrise is later. Slipping past the equator. Harvest we savor.
I don’t like where this path is trending. The cold air pressing against my back despite it not being winter.
Bad days. Chaos polluting my air. Anxiety restricting my common sense. I am hoping for the better, fighting to prevent
Sanity is slipping — an urge to be unseen — wishes cast into an empty well