[After a prolonged post election slump/pout, I return to the 100 Word Challenge with this entry, "Use Other Side," for the word "Sorry".]
I almost drop the clipboard. "Sorry," I say instinctively. The waiting room is empty, like my heart.
"Sorry." It's a child's word. It can't support the weight of regret. "Sorry I spilled my milk. Sorry I broke your lamp."
"I'm sorry for your loss," is as empty to hear as it is to say.
I look down and begin to fill in the spaces. There isn't enough room to list everything I'm sorry for, everyone I need to apologize to, everything I wish wasn't true.
"Use other side of page if necessary," the form says at the bottom.
