It's been a bizaare past seven days. M' furnace has been out for a week, and as I mentioned before, m' friend's baby sister is deceased. The latter has been swirling in m' head, taunting me, dispelling everything I thought I learned about life. It's just not fair.
The youngest of three, she graduated from Northwestern's seven year Medical School program, recently doing her residency program at her pa's (father is a doctor) hospital, until police discovered her body in the park, a knife protruding from her chest. No more details, because it's not my story to tell. I guess I wanted to cry, but it's not in m' nature anymore. I've embraced the Malcolm Reynolds (see Firefly series) persona, his rhyme-and-reason, a wee bit too hard. Actually, most of m' thoughts are of vengeance and retribution. Bad, I know. Ack, too much ....
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