Liquid runs warm inside my abdomen, a tingle in my right toes. A bare perceptible pulsating in my left lower back reminds me to sit up straight, but still I do not. The quiet in this darkened break room makes me linger.
I'm knitting a sleeve for a sweater, the first of my own design. It waits in a plastic bag, on the shelf to my right. I do not look in it's direction. There is no time to take it out to play right now, not right now.
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