Work Hours

I can count to ten in French. I know my months too. Today has been like finding a lone ladybug in squalor. A lucky penny and a losing scratch-off. A letter so tear stained the message is blurred. A car crash and even decapitation. When I move like I moved today, the tears come. Slow at first with no sobbing. Have to hide my face. I said no during work hours for no reason and no purpose to no one. It happens with flashbacks, shame, and regret.