la lakto el homa afableco

I am not doing well. It’s situational, but the situation appears to be chronic and there won’t be any meaningful change for a year at the very least. Until I speak with my three friends and therapist, it’ll stay off of

I went for a relatively long bike ride, about 5.6 miles. I sat by the water for about fifteen minutes, went across Route 37, then did a loop before heading back to the Park. On my way back, heading down a side street along 37, a guy having a barbeque waved me down. I was at a pretty low point, thinking about the conversations I was going to have ahead of me, along with recriminations about this possibly being all my own doing and Leah’s in the right to treat me as an asshole and isolate me.

I introduced myself to Camile, I hope that’s the right spelling for a guy named Camile, and his friend Josh offered me a hamburger. Turned out the plate had macaroni and cheese, a cheeseburger, shrimp, and a small corncob that was touching everything. I explained how I get autistic about food touching cheese and lactose intolerance. His friend Josh understood, admitting he is too, and I asked if I could have a piece of watermelon instead. They carved me a big hunk of watermelon then Josh came out with a hamburger for me. I thanked them and started off.

But not before turning around to thank them, telling them I was at a low point and how this lifted my spirits. “Just humans helping out humans. That’s what we’re supposed to do.”

Damn right.

Hope I get to pay this forward.

Chris S.
Anomalist, esperantist, cyclist, typist, dodecaphile, ailurophile, and oneiromancer. Chris lives near the shore with his wife, cats, and the Jersey Devil in his backyard.

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