When it is just us, it is all that matters then. But now, with our hearts miles apart you seem to have cluttered the linen closet with old memories from the past. I opened the closet this morning, and they all fell on top of me. What do I do with them now? I don't know how to organize them, I don't know which shelves they belong on. Only you do, and you're not here to help. I'm sorry I made the house messy. I'm sorry I scattered your memories to and fro on the floor. Maybe the dog will play fetch with them.

It feels like Seattle here, in this cold, dreary, Chicago suburb. It's been this way for weeks now, with little show from the sun and little warmth from the nearing summer. It seems as if everything is slowing down: the people, the traffic, life as a whole. I never thought the weather capable of affecting this much. Thus it has, and I too have slowed.