What is that SOUND?
Do I crawl out from 
under the DUVET?
Do I dare to look? 
What possible information, 
what single DATUM
would motivate me 
to leave my cosy nest?
None, I conclude, and
so, I roll over.

Georg’ann

He’s got COURT again next week. A sense of life on the line. OCD kicks in, needs to pull a together a look that reads respect for the proceedings, for himself. Closet holds no options, he heads to the basement, pulls out a MUSTY suit jacket, runs his THUMB over the lapel. Remembers the look she gave him when she caught her first glance. He needs to feel that level of ease, conveying confidence without being cocky. In every detail chosen he strives for shame to be MUTED. 

He’ll go alone this time. Told me he doesn’t want to be reduced to a single, unchanging and largely inaccurate DATUM. Terrified her eyes would never again be able to look upon him with love. Her love is the only confirmation that he has any worth left.

Heather