The sky is patchy, and the sun is trying, but winter seems bent on clouding us over.  "Shush," it says, as it draws the veil over our cage.  "Go to sleep."  Winter induces an odd skirmish of feelings inside me.  On one hand, I want to give in to my deepest, most powerful sin--sloth.  Sleeping, the vice.  On the other hand, winter means school which means productivity and accomplishments.  All of my best writing has been done in the winer, all of my achievements, unless you count sampling every flavor of ice cream at The Candy Shoppe.  But how do I keep up my production rate when I have no forewoman egging me on with a whip in her belt?

       Harvey came over last night.  He likes my mother all too well.  It bothers me because she's not so fond of him.  She thinks he's sweet and all, but she worries that I'm going to start liking him one day and want to marry him.  "Do you think he'll finish college?" I don't even acknowledge her queries with a response.  I do let my eyes roll, but then she's off chastising me for being disrespectful.  At my parent's house, I forget that I'm twenty-two.  When Harvey got here last night I made us popcorn.  He said he was full, so I was left stuffing face alone. 
"When are you leaving?" he asked.
"Leaving?"
"Here.  From Wisconsin."
"Oh," I said.  Harvey and I weren't very good at talking about the little things.  "Not sure."
"But you will be leaving."
"I guess.  At some point."
"Okay well, just, when you do let me know.  Say good-bye.  Okay?"
"I always--I will say good-bye to you, Harvey."
"Thanks," he said.  "Is there any popcorn left?" He looked in the bowl.  It was empty.