I hate this feeling of distance, like you're holding me at arms length, even if it's just to protect me. Protect me from issues at work. Protect me from hard stories. Protect me from the anxieties racing through your head.
When the alarm system dings for the open door, I feel a breath of relief exhale. A helper and a second teammate has finally entered the game. Then, he sits in his arm chair and before I can ask how his morning went or what they ate for lunch, snores resound from his side of the room.
“I don’t want you to help me! NO! NO! Don’t touch it!” she screamed as she aggressively jammed the “outie” part of the zipper against the “innie” part of the zipper over and over and over again to no avail. “Charlee, we have to go. ...