Monday, July 29, 2019
Was it the oxycodone I'd been taking every four hours for four days? Was it because it was the first day back out on the street with the sign? Was it too sunny and maybe I hadn't had enough water? I felt weak after 45 minutes. I was talking to a man who'd stopped to tell me about his worries about his first-grade daughter who seemed to be slow at everything. He was a Latino laborer with his hair in a bandana. He spoke with an accent. It wasn't easy for him to be telling a stranger this. I felt bad that I had to stop our conversation. I wasn't worried that I'd pass out, but I was staring at the ground and was feeling weak, the sun beating down on my shoulders in a dark blue shirt. I'll go back tomorrow.

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