I want desperately to write. There’s a burning, yearning.
I am raw. I feel so very alone. I am homeless.
A hotel room lovingly provided. A night in the spare room of a dear friend. Moving forward, two weeks offered of a sofa in the efficiency apartment of another. Applications to places for the displaced that are full, at present.
Finally, the notion of the fact that Tommy Boy Kitty will most likely not be able to share with me in this new, sudden life.
Prayers all around, folks. Gonna need ’em.