Time,unfortunately,doesntmakeiteasytostayoncourse.Thepathisstraightasever,butnowitisstrewnwiththerodgravelthataccumulateoveralifetime.Untilthreeyearsagoitwouldhavebeeoigitsimpossiblenow.Thereisasiessrollingthroughmybody;Imherstronghy,andmydaysarespentlikeanoldpartyballoon:listless,spongy,andgrowingsofterovertime.

    Icough,andthroughsquintedeyesIcheckmywatch.Irealizeitistimetogo.

    Istandfrommyseatbythewindowandshuffleacrosstheroom,stoppingatthedesktopickupthenotebookIhavereadahuimes.Idonotglahroughit.

    InsteadIslipitbehmyarmandtinueonmywaytotheplaceImustgo.

    Iwalkontiledfloors,whiteincolorandspeckledwithgray.Likemyhairandthehairofmostpeoplehere,thoughImtheonlyohehallwaythism.Theyareintheirrooms,aloneexceptfortelevision,butthey,likeme,areusedtoit.

    Apersongetusedtoanything,ifgivenenoughtime.

    Ihearthemuffledsoundsiandklywhoismakingthosesounds.Thenthenursesseemeandwesmileateachotherandexgegreetings.

    Theyaremyfriendsaalkoften,butIamsuretheywonderaboutmeahingsthatIgheveryday.IlistenastheybegintowhisperamongthemselvesasIpass.

    "Therehegoesagain,"Ihear,"Ihopeitturnsoutwell."Buttheysaynothingdirectlytomeaboutit.Imsuretheythinkitwouldhurtmetotalkaboutitsoearlyinthem,andknowingmyselfasIdo,Ithinktheyreprobablyright.

    Amier,Ireachtheroom.Thedoorhasbeenproppedopenforme,asitusuallyis.Therearetwoothersintheroom,aoosmileatmeasIenter.

    "Go,"theysaywithcheeryvoices,andItakeamomenttoaskaboutthekidsand