When It Happens

She's in Prison

When It Happens  My first reaction was to feel flattered, hearing only the whispered words you look hot in those tight jeans.  I said thanks and went back to my desk, toggling my mouse to wake up the screen as the revulsion set in, not sure what I’d say the next time we ran into each other in the hallway.  I wanted to pull my head and arms into my sweatshirt and hang out for a few minutes, rendered untouchable, invisible from eyes twice my age with ignorant wives.   Instead I continued working on the report I’d started before lunch.

My Saturday morning poems are usually my favorite, not because I think they are at all superior to my other ones, but because I love starting my weekend with “me” time. This week was a mess of ups and downs. I tested friendships, rekindled others, and rode the doubt-confidence spectrum. So taking a few minutes this morning to think through everything I’d survived in the past few days was blissful.

I have a Spotify playlist blasting and everything I need to make today a good memory tomorrow.

Have an epic weekend!

–Leanne Rebecca

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