I've seen this look on faces two other times before; Full of sickness (with signs of terror) on my front porch. You drove it all the way home and parked on the shops bathroom floor to send a message to my pocket which should have said: "These tests are hardly accurate." Oh please, don't let this get the best of me. It's probably nothing. It has got to be nothing. A perfect chance to right my wrongs where I've made mistakes before, in stoic anticipation on my front porch. But, our teeth are sore in places from the bullet we haven't bit so I'll ball my hands into fists to take the shaking from my fingertips. Any other news is good news on a day like today. Give me one more week and keep me busy. Give me one more week and don't remind me.