I hope. I slept in the recliner all night last night, which while completely fucking up my neck, did keep my from having another acid attack. I’m a little feverish this morning, but that could be from lack of movement. I’m winded easily.

Fucking norovirus.

Still, at least, I’m on the track to where I’d like to be, which is better. Slow and steady, ease back in, one toe in the pool of normal living.

Teaching me all kinds of things about kindness.

Target: 1300 words
Written: 507 words, novel: Father Lightning