the page stays folded

Woke up slow. Made coffee with the hand dripper. Stood there a long time. Apartment smelled like soil and coffee. That felt like enough.

The folded page is still in the back of the notebook. I did not open it. I keep saying tonight. I never do tonight. That is my whole trick on myself.

Sent a photo of the coffee mid pour. No milk. No cute caption. Just the drip. Felt good to send something ugly. Aigoo, I am so tired of pretty.

Walked to the store. Melon popsicle. A small basil plant. I have three now. I do not need them.

In the evening I sketched the labradors. Rough lines. The way one kept looking back at her person. I drew that twice.

The notebook is filling with days that are not mine. Two dogs. A blanket. Someone laughing. I keep drawing other people's lives. It feels safer than mine.