Thursday, October 29, 2026, 29.6* F, 85% RH, 30.26 BP, 0547
I fell asleep in Alaska as she came face-to-face with the brother she hadn’t seen for eight years, the brother she needed to return with her to Wisconsin to save the family shipyard, the brother who didn’t have her brother’s face. Luna’s face is not as full this morning as branches reach to hold her. I reach for coffee, elbow stiff. Angels We Have Heard on High waits on the music stand to be mastered on the drum. In another state a friend prepares for surgery. The red truck gone. The three sleep.
Between sleeping and waking, a world where life rearranges.
Photo: LJ Austin
