Of Counting Chickens

I've got to stop believing I'm safe.

Today I rose my head and calmed my shoulders, believing that after Saturday (next), I'd be home free. I'd never have to see them again. Sure, I'd see them, run into them eventually, I live in a small town, and I always run into people I haven't seen in forever and don't want to see when I don't want to see them, but I was generally safe.

So I thought.

A couple of hours later, An old "friend" comes online. And, surprise, she starts talking to me.

As if she never fell off the face of the planet, or acted like you had.

As if she never got caught up in too many things you can count.

As if she never called radio silence without announcing a warning at all.

I hate people like that. There's only one person I'd forgive for that, and they'll never know, because they'll never call off radio silence. Radio silence is our wall of safety, our pillows and beds.


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