A glimpse into my psychosis.

"Make a list," he said, with coffeemakers and coffee drinkers intermingling behind him.

I grabbed my purse, pulled out my pen, and then realized in that instant I didn't have paper.

No paper? How do I not have paper? I always have paper. Paper is part of my staple, my lifeblood. Along with a pen. It's ever present. Shooting from my fingertips. There in a snap. My only superpower is the ability to produce pen and paper at will. And now...suddenly...gone. Unarmed. Unprepared. I wiggled my fingers and no paper appeared.

"Here," he said, handing me a flier, "you can use the back of this."

I looked at my wiggling fingers and thought, 'They work.'
Tara Lynn Thompson