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The Bleaks still hover, but breathing slowly in the darkness, my arms relaxed at my side, listening to my breath come and go, come and go, sadness creeping into my thoughts but getting nowhere, the flames earlier are now just embers which if I blow on them will reignite, so I don’t, I just lie there with my eyes closed and breathe,  giggling when I remember the New Yorker cartoon on the bulletin board in my doctor’s examining room that he drew my attention to after prescribing Wellbutrin. 

“Destroy it?” someone asked uneasily.
“That’s right. Destroy it.”