I slept hard last night and don’t remember dreaming.
I made a pot of tea in the morning and let it go cold on the table.
I rolled out a pie crust and never filled it.
It dried on the counter, flour surrounding it like a dusting of fresh snow.
I sat in the big chair in the living room and watched the sun track across the room, creating shadows that stretched and contracted like a lazy cat.
I went back to bed without accomplishing anything, without eating or drinking… without even speaking a word.
Today was not a real day.