The coffee is cold, the shift is endless, and your cryptic brooding is making me miss my break.
I watch the way you stir your coffee, slow and rhythmic. I am starving, yet I prefer this hunger to eating. Someone will find this and wonder why we waited.
A reading from Psalms 115:17
The dead praise not Jehovah, Neither any that go down into silence;
— Psalms 115:17 (en_asv)
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1HtPrG8GPm5GfaH2FvcLLPzi2Us3A2i6Hx Verified