This week, I’ve moved through my days like a little rain cloud, cloaked in a heaviness beyond the July-in-New-York humidity. I feel flattened. Two-dimensional. Reminiscent of Wile E. Coyote after every failed scheme.
(Before you reach out, I’m fine. It’s just one of those weeks.)
Perhaps everyone is inhabiting another existence, I think, eyeing yet anot…