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dead fish

The afternoon turned grey. I usually like that. I take comfort in fog and low clouds. But not today. I usually dress like an overcast day. So it's like the sky was competing with me. And it seemed like the cars were all grey. And I stood in front of the mirror for an extra moment or two before going to lunch. The number of grey slivers in my hair are rapidly multiplying. The grey hairs are converting the non-grey hairs--just like Christians.

I went outside. I felt responsible for the colorless world around me. Like I was personally responsible for sucking all the color and life out of everything. I am making the world sick.

And then she called me tonight. Her voice colored the room. And I made her laugh a lot. There is hope for those of you who can still laugh. And maybe there's hope for me if I can still find pleasure in making someone laugh--someone I care about anyway. People I hardly know will laugh at things I say, and I just stare at them and feel nothing. There's something grey about their laughter--like laughter from a dead fish.

As I go about my business, I keep muttering under my breath, "I just want to find something."

I just want to find something.

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