The Draft Beneath

Despite having resided a steady dozen feet from the “edge” for decades now, when confronting a hard deadline my anxiety swears I’m back on that precipice and teetering.  

Nothing but air under the toes.

Nothing but a pushy wind at the back.

The next fall is coming, and there’ll be no climbing back from it.

Current hard deadline: Potcake puppy in eight days.

Current anxiety level: Toes are getting drafty.

Until tomorrow…


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