I am behind. So very far behind.
(and she waits a beat. Breath held. What next. It's not a question.)
Touch wood. For luck, to appease the gods, to cancel out the possibility that our hope will be stolen from us.
I touch my knee. I wait a beat. Breath held. Do I feel?
I don't know anymore, of course. I'm a professional, a veteran of feeling what I tell myself to feel.
And I know full well that there is nothing there at all.
Go listen to some good music: "In Media Res" from the album Earth Spirit by R. Carlos Nakai. It's a bit of a joke, of course. We are in the middle of things (in so many ways), but I'm also half way through the four weeks...and it's not looking good.