There are two lovers on the couch I sit behind. Their faces just inches apart, holding one another with endless tears and muted words. I feel the fear and uncertainty in the energy they share.

I’ve had a fascination with reflections in life.
Somehow, people around me have been always able to be a reflection of myself, an older version of myself, or much younger.

During these trying times lately, I look in awe upon this reflection before me of a couple whom’s life, I can only guess has been completely uprooted and doused with terror of the uncertainty and bewildering curiosity of change.

Just hours before, she and I with our hands entwined and faces close, voices down to a whimper. I myself, am in the hospital bed, once more, after another alcohol induced car crash. A hit and run of sorts. I begged and I begged, before we go to the hospital, may we stop: a half pint, an airplane shooter. I pleaded and gave away my last ounces of dignity, had there been any left to give. She said no. Again and again, she said no.

My train of thought evades me, as my brain is wrecked in an alcoholic uproar; but a man stands before me to shout at the television screen,
"My prayers were answered, quick!"
Some moments in life I can understand.

For the first time in a long time, my body is dressed head to toe in gooseflesh as it dawned on me, this old thought I gave up on a while back, yes, I suppose it is true,

"God talks to you through other people."