It had been a very long day. I woke up at eight. I made coffee. I got dressed. I don't care much for food anymore; the doctor says that's a problem. They always say that before they bring out the needles. I don't care much for that, either. It was raining, and I sat and watched as if I were hired to. The raindrops hit and streamed down the window, melting and twisting and joining until they were all in the same line. I started crying. No one cared.
