I can’t see
Matthew Ryan Fischer
She had been sick for ten days. Or more. No idea what it was. No
idea how she got it. I should have asked about her daughter, but I forgot. My
mind was dull. My muscles aching noodles. I could barely think of the words,
let alone type them. Never a fast texter, all I could see were gibberish and
typos. She wrote me. She cared about me. Despite her own illness. I should recognize
that and say something. But I’m so tired. It counts. It has to count. I’m just
too dumb to see it sometime.
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