Buried

I'm at my grandmother's. I'm showered. Dressed. Teeth are brushed. I've been upstairs to check on Gma and to spend some time with her. I know she knows that I'm not well today, because I didn't sit in my usual place or talk her ear off. Usually when I come home, I sit on the bench at the kitchen table, with a glass of water or sweet tea (TEE, April, not TAY) and talk talk talk talk talk. Even when I've been sad before, I can always talk talk talk talk to gma.

But I feel buried today. My chest is crushed down. It is so hard to breathe. I might take gma's Mustang out and drive for a while.

But I can still breathe.