Monday
Me: (crying at desk).
Lisa: Sorry to hear about your Maltese dog, Doug. When my succulent died, one thing that really helped me was cultivating my compassion by learning to empathize with other people’s pain, for example through conversations such as this one.
Me: Thanks, Lisa. It was a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel though, and my name is Mike.
Tuesday
Lea: Ahcghchhh fucking table corner—
Me: Hi, Lea.
Lea: Where are you? Who is this!? Fuck this hurts
Me: I empathize with your pain, for example through conversations such as this one.
Lea: Are you my dog?
Wednesday
Charlie: Sorry to hear about your service dog.
Me: Thanks. It was a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel though.
Charlie: I was talking to Lea.
Thursday
Charlie: Sorry to hear about your Maltese dog.
Me: Thanks, Charlie. It was a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel though.
Charlie: I was talking to Doug.
Friday
Me: Hey Doug, you doing okay? I heard about your dog.
Doug: You know, pal, if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that there is no secret ingredient against grief—if there were, it would be sixty-five spray-painted Cheerios, but the kind they sell these days is not so secret anymore. If there’s a second thing I’ve learned, it’s that everything happens for a reason. However, there is no second thing and I don’t believe this statement to be true at all.
Me: Thanks, Doug.
Doug: Anyway, one thing that helped me was time.
