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  • My dreams roll into my day, and sometimes I am not sure what is real, and what is from the deep reaches of sleep. Today he is an asshole. Big brown eyes. A white blonde. Legs a bit too short for his frame, but still an eyeful. Part English. Part American. He has perfect timing, and it makes him more dangerous. He sits back and listens, stores away information. Others think that he is not listening, but I know he always listens. He hears best when he shouldn’t be listening. He doesn’t talk much. Only acknowledges being spoken to when he wants something. His actions are his words. He’s not affectionate, despite how much affection comes his way. Entitlement is the word that comes to mind. He’s privileged. He’s well educated. Has never known what it’s like not to have enough to eat. His work is as much or as little as he wants it to be.

    On some mornings, the three of us get up wash, dress, eat, and go. We walk to school to drop off his brother. He’s distracted most of the walk. I try to draw him along. After the drop-off at the playground, we go for coffee. I have a decaf, because my nerves can’t handle caffeine. He’ll have an occasional glass of water if I get it for him. Often I will slip him a piece of something that I know he likes. Barely a thank you.

    No matter how long we walk, he wants to go farther. I am often guilted into walking a few more blocks, ten more minutes, back up the street we just came down. I make the compromises. I am fairly flexible if I am to believe my high flexibility score on Lumosity.

    I often wonder what his greatest strength is. Ego?

    A few nights ago, the two of us went to see her in prison. It’s been a year since she was arrested. I put on a service-dog harness that’s not his but will work to get him in. He calms her. Her trial is next November. She has opted to begin serving time before her trial. Time served before counts for more than time served after trial. She waits. We all wait.
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