I walk into a place that once felt like home, standing in a place I see things that once brought me comfort.....remnants of a dinner I used to be a part of.........2 plates, neither of which is mine......a dog in her kennel, whom I can't bring myself even to look at.....an unmade bed, that I didn't have any part of.....The feeling overcomes me and I fall to the bedroom floor tears running down my face as my body is racked with sobs. Composing myself I head to the fridge for the reason I came. I make it to the front door bread pudding in hand, the feeling of loss, of emptiness erupts within me again. Slouching to the floor the tears come again. Five, ten, fifteen minutes...how long have I been here? Time no longer makes sense. Looking up at the bread pudding on the counter brings a pang of sadness, willing myself to my feet it goes back into the fridge as the thought of the night it was made makes the thought of eating it unbearable. Noticing the time makes me wonder how long I've been here, remembering my promise of space makes me vacate quickly. Standing on the sidewalk, the Olympic crowds milling about me as if I'm invisible. Not knowing where to go, what to do, I stand still as time passes. Olympic joy on people's faces brings stark contrast to the lack of feeling inside me. A coffee shop chair beckons and I sit. Time moves quickly...or slowly....and again I wonder how long have I been sitting...thinking that there must be something I'm supposed to be doing but nothing comes to mind, so I sit....waiting for what I do not know.