Where do I stand?

I peaked out the balcony door this morning, let Tula out and although I couldn’t see without my glasses, the light rain glistened on the roof. The gray morning, diffused light turning green electric. I crawled back in bed. Pat still slept, the unwoven threads on his head reaching out to something. Where do we connect? Head, heart, thumb, hip – the invisible strand I’d like to pull and unravel just to see what’s there, where it starts, what color it is. He’s leaving for a few days on a northern journey. One man into the wilderness.
Driving downtown from the outskirts where I live, not one person had an umbrella. The rain fell harder, shirts blotchy and soaked. A woman on the sidewalk started hitting her purse against a man in a yellow coat. A panic rose in me, until they walked down the street like companions.
Last night, I had a dream that my father shot me with a shotgun through my neck and shoulder. I survived, but could never breathe the same again.

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