14: November 13, 2025 It is the type of morning that howls. Dark still, but so forceful. When I was in college, I lived on the 8th floor of a high rise building. The wind up there was something stunning; I worried about blowing over, though our walls were made of cinderblock. That fall,  I couldn’t eat enough oranges. I craved them constantly, sometimes eating several a day. I’d sit in my room, listening to the wind, gearing my wits up about me so that I could make the walk to the next quad for those oranges. I learned to peel them quickly, separating ...
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