The World is Full of Chances

We just need to grab the next one.

Working on a short story at a coffee house like the before times. February, 2024.

After I finish an essay, I rarely go back and read what I've written. For me, it's akin to listening to fingernails on a chalkboard. Reading younger versions of myself without being mortified or embarrassed is often impossible (though I do try to be kind). It's especially h…