“Are you sure we should still go to Florida?” I ask my husband.  We had planned a three week trip to drive down to Florida from New Jersey with our son and 11 yr-old dog in tow.

Grandma writes back: I am ok?
followed by a string of punctuation her tired
fingers didn’t mean to type. This error
reveals a half truth. A question
she doesn’t realize she’s asked.

I told myself I was going to be fine – I wasn’t going to let it happen to me. Each morning before sitting in my ergonomic chair, I procure a disinfectant wipe from the plastic container on my desk and begin my ritual with accuracy – wiping the mouse, the keyboard, headset and ear-pad, microphone, regular phone, receiver…chord connecting phone and receiver.

Micro aggressions, a part of my whole life
You’re so great at math
Can you see out of those eyes
Run your fingers through my ebon straight hair, go ahead, invade my privacy

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