five.

I have five minutes, and that isn’t too short a time to say something. It’s a sunny day, and from where I sit I can see heavy rays of light peeking over the next building, and Rat the Cat perched in the window watching the morning birds. I can see the odd assortment of books and papers that collect themselves on the table, on the shelves, on the floor, on the corner of the couch. I can see the wilted plants outside the window, on the fire escape, probably wishing I would just put them out of their misery (except the parsley and rosemary, which seem indifferent to the change in seasons).

It’s been a long week already and it will be longer still. Today will be long.

But there are wonderful things to look forward to - this weekend, next week, and months and months into the future.

And there's simple goodness: I slept well, I am safe and loved, and I’m drinking coffee with cream in it, so I feel special.