The U Turn 02:28

Maybe it's the emotional high. A person grows up so used to the major levels of stress and emotional contortion—and then seeks it out. As a string. Of something, deflating.

"I'm... not myself."

He gave silence. Receptive. He watched Goldy dry her eyes preemptively.

"I've let go. I had... desires, and one by one, I've cut ties."

"Ah. Ambitions?"

"Yes. Yes. That which I now understand were not really mine. I ended "owning" my mess ups. Then realized that these were relationships. Things —not things— none of us control. I suddenly feel... empty."

"Not empty handed, no?" gesturing to the space beside her, by work, occupied.

"My sister's. I'm looking for my sister."

"Is she lost also?"

"I'm looking through these pages— for my sister. I mean— for her publisher."

"?" Gentle questions reflected in his eyes.... of her eyes.

"She's not lost. She's gone."

"Oh. I'm sorry for your loss," he said, opening the space for thoughts.