The rain has stopped for now and I'm reading Jack Kerouac's On the Road while I wait for my posse to come down stairs with some notion of our day's events. I'm wondering if I should be part of the entourage who posts itself at the hospital anxiously awaits even the tiniest fragment of hope through an accomplishment that would have been less than trivial a week and a half ago or assign myself to a duty that would have insignificant and routine in the very recent past but now is something that has been relegated the list of tasks which can wait while priorities are realigned in the midst of tragedy.
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