For Byron

The meaning in each step tells me his precise mood. Today he is weary and walks like the chiming of a grandfather clock. Steady. Slow. Deliberate. He is broken and it shows. His green shoe's laces are untied and sweep along the linoleum, like a sled dragged behind its owner. There's an ache in my chest at the knowledge that no matter what, there is nothing I can do to assuage his distress.

- 2nd March 2008