It’s a rainy day. Cold. The kind of dreary day that settles down in lonely bones and leaves a person longing for a warm embrace and kind word. A day that leads you to letters of a past love and compels you to read, even though reading the forgotten words flips your stomach as a rollercoaster would, were you going through the loop. The kind of day during which you stumble across old photographs or articles of clothing and it stings, though the immediate pain is far removed. A phantom heartache kind of day.

Finding myself doing what I do best on these types of days, napping through them…