Maria:
I don’t think about it the moment I wake up.
It comes later. Quietly. In pieces.
I’m standing in front of my closet, staring at clothes I’ve worn a hundred times, and for some reason none of them feel right. I pull one out, hold it up, drop it back. Try again. Pause.
“I liked you.”
It slips in like it’s been waiting.
I close my eyes for a second, pressing my lips together. “You’re choosing clothes,” I mutter. “Focus.”
I don’t.
I pick something random just to get out of the room.
—
The clinic is busy enough that I should be distracted.
I am not.
I move through the first appointment easily. The second, I’m halfway through listening before I realize I’ve asked the same question twice.
The client doesn’t call it out. She just repeats herself, polite about it. That almost ma
