July 4, 2016:
My soda cap goes rogue, wobbles into the walkway where a deft lady with rollerbag and pretty smile bends, swoops, snatches it without breaking stride, handing it to me with sweet grin. "Nice catch!", I tell her, admiringly. "Thanks!", with a wave and a smile, not once changing cadence.
"No!", insists a tiny child ordered to return. She's on a mission only she understands, and the fate of the world hangs in balance. Her world, certainly.
I'm texting friends, seeking contact, fighting panic. It'll be three weeks before the crazy meds take hold.