Holding Pattern

I have stopped myself from writing this at least a dozen times. I’m trying to stop now. It’s not working, but at the same time, I can’t seem to start. A typhoon of images and sounds and thoughts floods my head, desperate to drown the memories of that sad, sad time, when what we did was what must have been done, but still, so relentlessly and ruthlessly heartbreaking.

I don’t think I can. I’ll have to try again tomorrow.

Part Three, postponed.