Illinoir

This is me with my hands clasped to my face in a gesture that is entirely unlike me, smiling a smile that isn’t mine — some fool’s smile, ear to ear, too broad, too wide. So many words out there that do nothing for me and then hers come, unexpected, into my morning shot through with rain, train delays and my return to conflict. Anyone seeing me now would think I’d been kicked in the head and left with massive brain damage, and maybe I have been.

This is me smiling through the first-thing-someone-in-the-office-did-was-slap-me-on-the-back. Through the construction-worker-upstairs-keeps-yelling-“Hell-Yeah!” Through the feeling of my skin stretching out behind me.