have you ever cried so hard and soft that the forgotten places in the mouth like the space under the tongue and the rows of imperfect teeth ache with the feeling--a localized anesthetic of pain--that just doesn't seem to want to stop? even when i make endless lists of dinners i could cook for us. draw maps that try to sort out all the wrong turns we made to end up so useless and alone. paint out all the pictures in my head about the story of our lives in fiery concentric circles the color of tea stains.