Day 13 doesn't feel unlucky. I mean in any special way.
All days without the soul that really radiates for you are unlucky days. You know this, whoever you are.
Gratitude even for the 5 hours of sleep.
At least it's not 3.5 like yesterday.
Gratittude for the strange sounds of others working in the night, through the night. I mean a steel mill and the shrill and clanky sounds. The beeps of vehicle retrievers and the rattle of long cold metal pipes falling from level to level. The sounds of humans don't travel as well. Or else the humans never speak.
Day 13 of sobriety in all things, but I don't even want to say the number of days without your friendship.
That wound I keep closer than speech.
I rise and look for sustenance and penance.
I never knew before they are sisters and they are both my friends.
Sustenance says such funny things about Penance behind her back and then Penance does the same.
I tell neither what the other says.
I just tell them they should love each other.
They are, after all, sisters.