. The office sits on the third floor of a modern office building. All glass windows, quiet corridors and private offices. I run my fingers slowly over the engraved nameplate outside the office. “Suite 306. Sarah Johnson, Therapist.” I’m in the right place. I open the door into an empty waiting room with a sparse…
. Leaving the warmth, bright lights, and tiring crowd behind me, I walk out into the darkness of this cool June night and I weep. I sob like I never have before. All that is before me now is the multitude of stars, the weight of certainty and a fundamental belief in love. I know…
. Waterloo Train station at 3:30 pm on a Tuesday is as glamorous as it sounds. The evening rush hasn’t started, so it is busy with tourists, lost souls, homeless people seeking respite from the cold Spring rain, and people like me whose schedules placed them here against their will. Two distinct, loud chimes sound…