As she scraped and scooped, her mind began to unclog too.
Sometimes unblocking the gutters was just about unblocking the gutters. But sometimes, Lena thought, it was a place to start.
At the time, she’d rolled her eyes. Now, standing in the mist, she laughed.
She thought of the email she’d drafted to her boss on Friday—the one about stepping back from the overnight shift, the one she hadn’t sent. Too messy , she’d told herself. Let it sit. But like the gutter, letting it sit had only made the overflow worse. Her sleep was stained; her patience was rotting.
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