You were only waiting for this moment to arrive.

Today, in the early-morning gray skies, I smile. Today I am okay. Or I can force it. I look down, ‘yours’ written across my chest (because that’s what I am - yours, or well, hers), and look up. Two days have gone by since the death of my grandma. Proof that time is a constant flow, as my promises suggest. Seconds will always turn into minutes, minutes will always turn into hours, hours will always turn into days, days will always turn into weeks, weeks will always turn into months and months will always turn into years. 31,556,925 seconds in a year. Another one just went by.

Today I’ll be okay.