Nobody Was Present
Daily headaches for nine weeks, words moving on a page for eleven days before she told me, a cap worn indoors under fluorescent lights, and an eleven-month delay on a degree because the statistics prerequisite only runs in the autumn.
She finishes in 2027.
Reading in a moving car, which she used to do constantly and cannot do at all, and which Dr.
Donkor thinks is probably permanent.
Being in a hallway with somebody behind her.
Nineteen shifts at a veterinary clinic, held open by a practice manager with eleven employees and no obligation of any kind.
Twenty-six thousand four hundred dollars in legal fees across a criminal matter I was not a party to, a dissolution, and an eleven-thousand-two-hundred-dollar hearing to establish that a loan I did not know about was not half mine.
A hundred and forty-six thousand five hundred dollars of my house, lawfully, to the person who did it, because the law does not have a column for the twelfth of September.