It Hits At the Strangest Times

The children's boutique The doctor's office A restaurant On a path It comes from nowhere, but when it comes, I recognize it and understand it. I remember a politicians wife commenting on it--how she would stop women in public restrooms and show them pictures, share her grief. All I remember was thinking how awful that must be. To have this need or sick desire to share the pain that you are experiencing with total strangers, as if it would keep a person alive. I find myself becoming that person at times. Controlled, typically, but when cradling a dress in a store or sitting across from the doctor--no. They need to know. This world is not fair.