some days have the dizzying optimism of a lighthouse's spiral staircase. some days are hot rooms closed behind steel doors that distill the sound of dripping chocolate. some days are ice cube trays belonging to a family that doesn't use ice. some days sit down beside you at the bench in the museum to talk about dinosaur bones and pyramids (wonders of the world). some days won't fit under your brother's door. some days are days that would kill you if you kill you if you hat to repeat them. today was one. so was yesterday. here i am. vanishing.