Time and time again. I fear words as much as I love them. I did not know when it all began. Maybe one Sunday morning, when I was alone and troubled and needed a helping hand. Or maybe when I stopped drinking coffee and the like, caffeine running in my veins—gone. Maybe when the rain started falling in June or when the summer sky has bid me goodbye. I wanted to wonder why. I wanted to know. I needed to do something. Something needs to be done. But all I end up doing is stare in the open afternoon air. Rainy still. On a June Wednesday. Will it ever end? This fear? This accord. This advantage. This closure. This ability?