Hmmm… let me think…
Yep, there it is.
These calculations prove it

Prove what?

You work too hard.
It’s all right here in writing

I work too hard?
I’ve never worked twenty hours a day
For 18 days straight on
One mural

No, you just work thirteen hours a day
358 days per year.
You can’t escape, it’s right here
In my calculations

What have you written down?
… “Drinks twenty Red Bulls per week…
Eats four bags of potato chips…
Donuts…”
You’ve been keeping track?

All kidding aside,
I worry about you.
I really do

And I worry about you

Me? Why?

Because… while, this year
Has turned everyone’s world upside down,
You have seen virtually everything you love
Go away.
You haven’t seen your niece or nephew…
The gallery has been closed…
The university job fell through…
And, worst of all…

Yes?

You’ve been stuck here with me.
Every day.

True.
Just you, me, and
A whole bunch of
Red Bull, potato chips, and donuts.

It is weird how much of our lives and energy
Go into our jobs. At least
You are an artist, all your work is, you know…
Yours

You are, too, after a fashion.
As much as the corporate world will allow

It is catching up with me, though.
I can feel it.

And I understand.
I just want you to take
Better care of yourself

Sigh.
Donuts are like my friends.
I hate losing friends

I’ll find ways to make you feel better

I never really liked donuts anyway