I know you mean well. Everybody means well. Please don't bring another casserole, there's three of them downstairs. Don't call my brother, don't call the office, don't organize my chairs. I know where all the passwords are. I know which bills are due. I can answer my own damn phone. I've been answering yours too. You say, "Take some time." Like time's the thing I'm short of. I've suddenly got plenty. That's sort of the problem. Don't help me. Don't make me a project. Don't lower your voice when you say my name. Don't watch me like I'm gonna break something. I know you mean well. I know. That's what makes it strange. Yes, I'm back at work already. No, I don't think that's a crime. Someone has to call the clients. Someone has to keep the time. You can take the Tuesday meeting. Actually, no. Leave it there. And whoever keeps sending flowers, we are running out of air. I'm eating. I'm sleeping. I'm doing what they said. I even changed the stupid sheets. I didn't change his side of the bed. Don't help me. Don't make me a project. Don't tell me I don't have to be so strong. Don't take things because you think they're too much. Maybe they're too much. They're still mine to get wrong. When everybody finally stops calling, I stand there wishing somebody would. That's the part I'm not explaining. The quiet is very good at its job. So call tomorrow. Just don't ask how I'm doing. Don't help me. Not like I'm disappearing. Don't speak for me because I lost someone. Just sit there. You don't have to fix it. I know you mean well. Maybe... just don't go yet. I'll call you tomorrow. I said I will. ...leave the casserole.
