My Last Card
I am crying.
Two seconds ago, I was a middle-aged man planning his day over an Americano.
Then, I get a text from my cousin.
I am not crying quiet – dignified-like.
My nose is running and I am thanking god the bill is already paid.
On the way to the car, I compose myself.
The week is chock-full of the type of news you carry in your belly.
In what appears to be a moment of calm, I call my boss.
I report to him that I won’t really be myself today.
As if to prove the point
I start to cry again.