And there it was again. Fight or flight. It’s blissful to blow through the early easy phases where nothing needs an up-close look. Why bother leaning too far in or pressing too hard on those tender spots? But then without fail -- there would come a point at which a decision had to be made. Really, every day -- every minute -- is a decision. Sit. Stay. Chew. Nod. Live. Love. Run. But somehow, the frames would get jumbled and suddenly the question: cut the line or let it struggle on?
Only a woman would pose it as a question, he had once thought. A man would just walk away. But now?
He wanted to ask, but he didn’t want to darken the air with the idea. It was like the general public’s (inaccurate) fear that talking about suicide led to more suicides. In this case --
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