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Another writing day, you pace around it like a stranger, like a high school crush. The last day of summer and it rains, it rains, fear lingers in the periphery just waiting for a moment of weakness and a chance to pounce. Newfound muscles ache like soft reminders and soon you have to decide if you're willing to give what they're asking of you. It is September, who will you be in it? Who have you been, thus far? There are too many opportunities for dress-up, for charades, and perhaps it's a welcome vacation from your regular life but prance in vacation long enough and eventually your face will stay like that. I know how my heart softens when I'm not paying attention, so I have to be careful while I still can.

The rain stops eventually, I run out of excuses. A little girl waits patiently on the page. Okay, I say, all the answers in my hand. I'm coming.