Crawling, little by little

Those days when you have to ration for gas — just $5 here or $10 there, fueling the tank to run for one more day. Even if it’s on little more than fumes.

Those moments when heading for home and bed is akin to struggling through a wasteland toward an oasis, eyes dry and teeth gritty with sang.

Those nights when lifting against gravity takes more energy than you thought you could ever burn. 

I’m right there. Crawling forward.

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