/ by Laura Kochman

Cats work that way. They don't trip over their love. I have a cold, and for some reason my sternum hurts. When I stand too quickly, it feels like I am trying to open up my ribcage, crack the two sides against each other like the stiff walls of a fortune cookie. I am waiting to go home, tomorrow, to the last few days before I start teaching again, and the last few days in my pink house. I am waiting for energy to return, so that I can write and stop feeling inadequate about not writing. I am waiting for late-night pho.