Adjustment

I left that place a little deflated, I guess. Almost forgot to send the review information in to get an extension for the one I haven't even met yet, still sick and laying low after three days. I don't know much about coming off meth, but she makes me think it's not much fun. I get it done with two minutes in the business day to spare, and then talk to a girl who is still very much a girl, except with ruined teeth, and shattered trust, and enough self-destruction thrust into her from so ridiculously young that she might not live to see adulthood. Trying to tell her to just rest here a few more days, in safety. And then in my office, the guy from prison who doesn't hold it together so well when confronted with too many variables tells me loudly that I'm in on it too.

"See? Yellow! Red!! Blue!!! STOP FUCKING WITH ME." 

Ok, ok, ok.

Outside, the sun is out and it's in the 60's with a gentle breeze. I'm going to take a walk in the park. I'm not going to my co-worker's house party even if it seems rude and ungrateful. I just don't want anymore tonight, alright?

So I walk up the steep section of road through the cacti and into the sun, graceful in it's nightly decent.

"Yes, you're right"  I say to the desert, "that isn't the whole world." 

I have to remember that. Sometimes I forget.

Forty five minutes of walking, watching the round moon rise over brittle high desert vegetation, makes me better.