Some days don't ask much of you. They just sit there, a little grey, a little long, not bad enough to name and not good enough to keep.

You get through them the way you get through most things, quietly, one hour at a time, making tea you forget to drink, replying late, doing the thing and then the next thing and then sitting down because you ran out of next things and the day is almost done.

Some days you don't feel like yourself. Not a worse version. Just not quite the usual one. Like someone moved something in a room you thought you knew and you can't figure out what it was so you stand there just slightly unsettled.

But then the light changes or a song comes on or someone says your name the way that means nothing except that you are here and they know it.

And you realise you got through it. Not with anything to show for it. Just through.

Which, some days, is the whole thing.