It is in liquids that I think of you today. Heavy, syrupy time crawls down my throat, choking me with crystalline clots. As soon as one chunk is passed, I seem to breathe more freely, find myself once again in the world without the strange sensation of being entirely bereft.

But then again, so quickly comes the reversal of fortunes, and, to reverse the saying, what goes down must also come up. Never have I felt such a need to expel.