Stress

I feel it across the middle of my back when I bend down to pick up her trail of used kleenex. It radiates around to my front, where it constricts around my lungs. I feel it in my knees when I bend down to tie her shoelaces. I feel it in my skull as the day stumbles along its well-worn track of miscommunication.
I sit and take deep breaths and Nexium. I raise my arms, stretch, bend over and let the weight of it all drain out my fingertips. I take Excedrin.
The leaves are starting to turn on the mountain, reminding me how quickly time is passing about me, without me. I am contained, constrained, remaindered.