I talk to myself a lot. Like you, right? These days more than ever. Why? Could be my imagination, but I think my friends have stopped talking to me.
I arrived at work this morning and walked into the mail room (where the coffee pot sits). Keeping with decades of tradition, my pre nine o’clock class friends had gathered.
I left wearing a flat grin and reminded myself how much easier it is to smile after eating a snickers bar. I echoed down the hall to my office wishing I had worn shoes with rubber soles. Safe at my desk I wondered what had been said about me over communal java back there. Time for class. I silenced my phone and noticed a text alert. It was Deb.There was my answer.