Frozen Feet

Don't know why but my feet are freezing. I'm not sure why I shared this with you either.

I won't make writer's tomorrow night. Sorry, Jenny. I'll see you in a week.

January 21--Syrian school, Funerary Relief with a Female Figure. She sits there staring at me, her left hand at her temple, her right across her chest. Her unblinking gaze creeps me out. What could she want of me? The only reason I'm here is because I work for her husband who I have never met so I have no idea why she keeps staring at me. No matter where I stand or sit I feel her eyes boring into me. Does she think she knows me? I've never met the woman and now it's too late, but still she stares at me. This is the craziest funeral I've ever been to. Who'd have a cremains urn made to look like themself anyway?

Eh. It's writing.
--Barbara