The Last Tab Open

3:47 a.m.

Forty-one tabs open

and only one of them matters:

the one I haven't clicked yet.

It's a recipe

I will never make.

For a meal that requires

chopping things,

and patience,

and someone to cook for.

But I keep the tab open

because closing it feels like

admitting something

I'm not ready for yet.

Maybe tomorrow

I'll make the chicken.

Maybe tomorrow

I'll also call my mother back.