where’s the other one. manhattan.
While I was walking Peanut through the Sunnyside industrial park my present abode is perched within, two local construction workers stopped me this morning. Separate instances. One query: "Where's the other one?" I'm not the only one adjusting to Henry being gone. I think I'm getting better at pretending to not be bothered. My therapist seems to think I'm cruising along with recommendations of fortnightly visits. Fine by me. Like I've been...