It was like that. Sometimes I'd go for a period—days or weeks—without feeling the full sweep of my loss, and then as unexpected as a thunderclap, the realization would rip the protective coating from my senses. Maybe that's the way it is with trick knees and aging griefs. Totally pain free one moment and absorbingly painful the next.

What do you know about sooner or later? Is a moment only a moment when you're in pain?

I love Arkansas but I think Arkansas has its share of unlit minds.

The world is not a rational place.

And marking off time struck me as something like counting empty spaces—spaces you know can't ever be filled.

Why is it I'm always so quick to believe that people are thinking...believing the worst about me?

Maybe...in a way, this coffee reminds me of something. Maybe...maybe only a philosopher or a mad man would make this connection, but it's a little like life. I mean it's powerful going down and that doesn't even take into account the aftertaste, which really takes getting used to.