the second installment in a week-long exploration of the rituals of starting again

he clamps his teeth together so hard he can feel his jaw muscles clenching
birds scatter and squawk at the creaksqueakscreech when he lifts his right arm right out in front of him.
he wonders what the spiders and the ants on the cement below him think
when they get caught in the snow flurries the rust flakes that float down from his elbow as it extends.
a rush of blood and his fingers are all tingly as he extends his palm.

he is vaguely aware that he is forgetting to smile
but he makes eye contact and considers that a victory.
he shook one hand at the entrance of this one interview and even if it all goes to shit from here
that's more than he did yesterday.

he clatters down the sidewalk
and the trees in their planters wave and cheer him on.