A cup of mediocre tea, creamer from a plastic container, 1/2 a square of chocolate.
Where to file all these thoughts.
Grief is a sneaky beast. Stalking the soul in silence, lurking. Routine interrupted by it's pounce. It only takes one talon to draw blood, rip the whole scab off. Triage all over again.
There is no way to guard the heart from grief. It permeates. Finds a way in.
They say keep moving. But I haven't. I'm frozen in my tracks, eyes locked and I can't look away, can't put my head down and walk past quietly, unobtrusively. It's already seen me, found me out with my tepid tea and chocolate crumbs.