sometimes . . .

Sometimes . . . people really make me feel alive. That is a kind way of putting things.

. . . They make me downright mad.

During such times I usually start cleaning, or working, or baking and cooking frantically. I walk quickly. I say nothing.

When I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror I notice that my face is bright red.

That's when I check to see if my immediate neighbors are home. If not - I let out a deep growl of frustration.

Then I feel like a child . . . and I go back to frantically cleaning.