forgetting what day it is and realizing i’m in michigan on monday instead of at work. big, big, beautiful storm clouds. the perfect drum that amplified even the softest touch or scratch. everything about it was thin and light. in the hotel room, a party of old ladies enters our room and has a tea party despite the fact that we clearly have not checked out. i tell them that it is rude. they ignore us. i pinch them HARD and tell them again that it is rude. they ignore us still. we leave but i remember our shoes. my mom’s shoes, my shoes, brett’s shoes. a dozen pairs easily in bright colors. i crawl on the floor around old ladies’ calves encased in knee highs and musty floral print skirts to collect all of our shoes into a laundry bag and then i escape.