Hangman.

Tomorrow, I'll revisit my fiction. I have a bit of reality to chat about.

Let's back up.

Yesterday, I took a walk with a friend.

It was early. We walked in between the heat and the rain.

We walked around a lake, and in an effort to maintain some kind of lake-walking left/right order, someone painted lanes on the walking path.

And then someone painted something else.

This made me stop, just long enough to take a picture.

It was good to pause, to catch my breath and notice this.

And tonight was good, too.

I went out tonight.

I went with a different friend to a different place.

We started out way in the back of a lovely restaurant. We initially found ourselves way in the back, because the place was packed. A table opened up outside, so we snagged it. Then the sky opened up with buckets of rain.

We found shelter with some people who were so welcoming. We shared the rainstorm with two people who were so open.

Eventually, it became obvious that the rain wasn't going anywhere. So we went back inside.

We found purchase at a table with two women who told us more about themselves than most people share in years of therapy. We did the same.

What a great night.

What a fun game.

Hangman has no distinct end point. Add some fingers, add some toes, fill in some features.

This game of life is similar. So beautiful, so perplexing, so many ways to play.