July 16, the old man’s office is being emptied out. I have my volumes of his already, marginalia in-tact.

Heading up to Riverdale in 20 minutes. I don’t know what the etiquette is, and I’m not good with those things. I went to the Italian market and got a fruit platter.

My coworker who has a crush on me wants to go out for drinks tonight. I’m going to go. Don’t really care. I think this whole thing is just starting to hit me, now.

I have a voicemail with his voice on there, telling me we’d go over my writing soon. So that’s hard.

Erase or save.

I’m so thankful I have so many things going on right now, and it’s the perfect time to have no obligations to anyone except myself. Sometimes I realize how lucky I am for my isolation. It’s hard to come by these days. Quiet in a world that can’t stop talking.