It Was Late, the Diner Was Empty

I didn’t know him when I sat down, but by the time I got up I’m pretty sure I did.

I came in around midnight, I’d been driving all night with my boyfriend to get to Seattle in time for a convention we were working at. He was passed out in the passenger seat and I was starving, so when I saw the lit sign just off of the freeway, I pulled off to grab a burger.

At the bar, facing the cook and eating a single piece of pumpkin pie was a man. He was small, broad, and slumped over his plate. Dressed in a pair of slacks, running shoes, and a wool coat with long, knotted hair splayed down his back. I sat a few seats down from him and ordered by burger, than said hi.

He smiled, a weak and soft smile. A heavy smile. I asked him about why he was so sad.

“I’m not sad.” He said, slowly and carefully, as if each word were brand new and still had sharp edges on them. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long, hard road.”

A Note, To Myself

Something rather important happened recently and I’m still recovering from it.

Here’s a hint of it, though, and it’s only one facet of a very complex emotional problem. Do not take this as my entire, or only, emotional state. Just know that it is one.

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