Semi-Daily Scribbles

Everyone was in a hurry. The rhythm of herds locked in a rush to get to work, and back home again, made Alison's skin break out in raised, pink spots. Her irritated skin didn't respond well to makeup, and any attempt to hide the blemishes made Alison's face look overcooked and crumbly. She hated to leave the house when a flare-up appeared, but she couldn't hide in her pajamas all day in peace and quiet, either. Lynn, or Bucky, or Dr. Mitchell would more than likely bang on her front door until she opened up. They scurried about doing the things they did, like working the bakery counter at Kroger, or listening to people talk about their shitty childhoods. Alison reckoned both kinds of work were essential in maintaining the daily pace that made her feel left out and off balance. She'd just have to find a way through it all, one day at a time. Always on the lookout for some tiny break in the action that jangled her nerves and knotted her stomach, Alison was awestruck to find a lavishly iced surprise on her doorstep one particularly bumpy morning. She wasn't sure who left the cake, but she was grateful that neither Lynn, nor Bucky, nor Dr. M. made her open up before she was ready.