i went to see “who’s afraid of virginia woolf” with friends and had to leave after the second act because i started crying because the dialogue is basically just a husband and wife being biting and cruel and horrible to each other and it was too real. not the words or the delivery, but the emotion. the pushing and pulling. i walked to the bus stop and my bus was 20 minutes away and i needed to do something besides wait for the bus so i walked to a gas station and bought a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. i walked all the way home smoking one cigarette. something about doing that made me feel better. i got to my apartment and wasn’t ready to be still yet, so i walked to the corner market and bought an ice cream bar and walked to the park by my house and sat watching people in various states of drunkenness traipse through. or stop and smoke. or stop and kiss. the air was cold but soft. there are lilacs out and cherry blossoms. there’s lemon balm in the cracks of the sidewalk down the block. i breathed slowly, counting, talking to myself about inhaling and exhaling. i tried to be quiet inside. i left the pack of cigarettes and the lighter on the bench like some kind of offering; or some kind of penance. i hope they get found by someone who needs them. who needs a sign. who needs a small good thing to happen.