Choices
He wasn't sure what to do about it. And by it, he meant her. After all this time, it was apparent to even him that something needed to be done. But what? How could he get around this mess? Who could he ask? And if he asked, would they even help him? He wasn't so sure. It had been so long since he--since they--had cultivated friendships. And friends were the ones you counted on at times like these. It was clear to him now, that friends mattered. They truly mattered. If only he'd realized that earlier...
A cup of coffee and some Cheerios later, he knew what to do. He marveled at how the same breakfast routine could be so clarifying. The answer was simple: do nothing. He sat back in his chair, letting his gaze coast across the kitchen to the dog, who lay beneath the dining room table. Soft puffs of air punched the air in a rhythmic beat and caught his attention. "Let sleeping dogs lay," he said, and pushed his chair back away from the table.
And in that instant, where he chose to do nothing, he'd set the course for everything else that was to come.
A cup of coffee and some Cheerios later, he knew what to do. He marveled at how the same breakfast routine could be so clarifying. The answer was simple: do nothing. He sat back in his chair, letting his gaze coast across the kitchen to the dog, who lay beneath the dining room table. Soft puffs of air punched the air in a rhythmic beat and caught his attention. "Let sleeping dogs lay," he said, and pushed his chair back away from the table.
And in that instant, where he chose to do nothing, he'd set the course for everything else that was to come.
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