I feel much better now. It’s almost time to go home. No one else has yelled at me. Life is good.
There’s some kind of alarm…never mind, it stopped.
My hands are bone dry and dirty. I do not care. I’m staring at the network of dark cracks and crevices that make up the lines on my palms like a person who’s on something, just appreciating how work-worn they are.
Evan said he had plantar fasciitis in Afghanistan, from all the being on foot. That must’ve really sucked!
I have already run out of time. It’s all good. Them boxes don’t stack themselves.
Talk later my friends ☺️🙂