snippet from The Fog
The Fog
The drip from my left nostril reminds me that the sleeves on my zip up active wear jersey are for more than keeping me warm. These are my official tissues. Sleeves can be handy and comforting, as any child will tell you. Besides, tissues eventually run out and my jersey could be placed in the wash, once fully crusted over. Judgement should be reserved for people who are clear minded and well. The nose, my nose, was just the beginning of my troubles. I felt and internal storm brewing. I'm not sick. I hardly ever get sick. My immune system is iron clad, I told myself in an almost convincing way. Like the lid to a trash bin; my teeth pivoted back and forth. The pressure in my head hinted at the possibility of a headache. Headaches are normal, I thought. Normal. Normal. Normal. What is normal? Doesn't everyone have their own version of normal?...until it changes into another normal? I guess normalcy evolves.


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