Monday and a black dog comes and sits on my chest. The apartment is too small and I feel like I’m always at work. Gentle mild morning everywhere, blossoms on the tree in front of our building—is it an oak? Why don’t I know what kind of tree it is? The streets of the town are like the apartment, clean and empty except for a few idlers with no place to go. I follow my daughter to the lake, wondering if she’ll remember my presence or feel my absence more. This thing will drive you crazy if you let it.