The lion of early March roared throughout the night. The temperature dropped 40 degrees, and the wind rose and stayed all night scattering my trash cans in the driveway. I slept again like a dead man with nothing to look forward to cursed with the urge to pee three or four times because of a prostate that won't stick to the program. There was a dream of a black haired woman but it wasn't anyone I knew. Then someone casually and momentarily rested their hand on my hip while we put barbells away. A coach or someone. Human touch. Bonding, reassuring, encouraging. The feeling stuck with me.
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