It's raining. And man, I love the rain. I'm sitting in our living room as it rains. And man, I love our living room. I have rainy day music playing on the speaker around me, including a pair tucked discretely below the '60s console in a manner intended to blur the line between 60 decades, in conjunction with the rest of the room's decor. And man, I love music too.
As it rains, for whatever reason, a moment of melancholy crosses my mind. I know, crazy, right? Me? But I roll with it, and sitting in this space, physically and emotionally, I reflect on how Linda died in a manner she dreaded, directly on multiple occasions, ever possibly having to endure.
And yet, it happened. Or... and then, it happened.