Here are the broadstrokes of what happened last week, keeping me away from work, writing, and, at times, even my family. The details are withheld, because they are not mine to divulge.
Friday, 10 June
Late in the afternoon, while preparing to surprise my significant other, Strawberry Blonde, with her birthday cake, I sat for just a moment in the living room. During that moment my front door issued a staccato pounding. I thought, for just a moment, that it was one of the birthday guests early; then I felt her terror and disbelief.
When I opened the door a frantic, barely conscious Jill rushed through it (not her real name). Jill is our neighbor a few doors up. She’s married to Goliath (not his real name), and together they have three young children. Jill and I are close, and I receive her emotions more acutely and strongly than I receive the emotions of anyone outside my family (my mother, sister, Strawberry Blonde, our kids). In me she finds the safety of a brother; she is as close and dear to me as a sister.
Feeling and seeing her in such distress alarmed me.
“[Goliath] just hit me,” she blurted.
