Thought-Drive

The director of the program where I had my first job out of college recently went in for his second hip surgery. A group text got circulated, the kind that encourages people to reach out and well wish. I was a week late with my communication, and even then called at a bad time. A few days after that, he called me back, and filled me in on his recovery and retirement. And rehabilitation. He explained the pain of the program, of the discomfort of building up strength again, in preparation for when the pain medication runs dry and one has to endure without supplement. He told me about a lady he used to see at the hospital, recovering from a knee procedure, and how she would always cut corners. He saw her some months later, apparently. She had a limp, and would forever require the use of a cane. I used to be pretty good at math. Or, Maths. I thought that when the cover for the second book arrived, I'd be able to hustle through the publishing process. The problem was that I peeked at

My manager gifted me with a bookstore gift card for the holiday, and this past weekend I decided to go and see what I could buy. I spent very little time researching my options and cursed myself later for my dereliction. I walked circles around the store, gift card in hand, like maybe it was a dowsing rod or other divination tool. Like it would vibrate when I was near the item I sought. I had aspirations, and each was quickly dashed as it bubbled up into my mind. I saw the music section in the back and thought about all the music I wish I had unlimited access to. Then I realized I don't own a CD player. I thought that surely there must be some mechanism to purchase mp3s and transfer them to my phone or a cloud account or... and then I was in the toys and games section. I thought about something to put on my desk, a puzzle I could articulate that would stimulate my mind while winding away the down hours. But I had never heard of any of the games; I was suspicious of the promises on