Leap

An extra day appears, sloshes around the end of February like a strange gift you maybe didn't ask for. You pace the apartment in a daze, unable to summon any New York hustle from your depleted spine. His voice feels like home, you lean back and let it heal you, despite yourself.

There was a time, when this month dragged you through the depths of your own hopeless despair, how you cut yourself on the jagged edges of every wrong turn and stumble, until you lay panting in a pool of your own blood, grasping at straws until the return of a milder season. This year you stare in amazement at the calendar, wonder when the Great Darkness will hit you, unbelieving that it might not. Bring your list book back out from its dusty pile on the shelf. Ready yourself to make plans again.

Dare to believe you'll be here to follow them through.