No expression no expression

No expression no expression

It's nearly eleven and I'm wearing my mom's old law school sweatshirt and a pair of pink pj pants and I'm cold as usual, but tomorrow I'm going to sleep in. This afternoon my sister had a camp reunion in LA so my mom and I spent four hours at this mall that has a zillion escalators, and I bought a sweater and a thermal and a jacket and every time I look at clother now I'm either thinking of being warm or of winter formal.

It's been raining all day today, and that's really the only sign of winter so far as I can tell. I drank a hot chocolate tonight even though I wasn't very cold because it seemed wrong to order a cold drink at Starbucks as the cold rain poured down outside. My mom did anyway though. While she was ordering, I looked up at the wall, where there was a mural of Eliot and Twain and Dickinson sitting in a cafe drinking tea and writing novels and, as I imagine, discussing all the wonders of the world. I think it's so peculiar what parts of my day I remember and what parts I forget. Sometimes nothing seems momentous and sometimes everything does, and it really all only lasts a minute.

There's a voice in the back of my head telling me I wrote nearly that same sentence yesterday, but it doesn't matter because it's that same voice that won't let these thoughts go.