The document says “continue where you left off” but I’m not sure if you really could; it’s a different day, a different you, really; some of your cells died overnight and were replaced, if you’re lucky, with new ones. If you’re not lucky you get some sort of terrible disease like leukemia, a fulminant disease which killed people in days before chemo. I’m not sure why people hate chemo so much. Well, I do know. I’ve seen what it does. But to say it’s a trick, a scheme? Probably not. His blood looked like porridge. I feel like that was part of a story I read when I was little. Stirring blood into porridge to put a spell on the person who eats it. Now-a-days all that would get you would be another illness. Hepatitis, maybe. My dad got hepatitis in college, from chicken, he says, but who knows? My uncle recommended the best place for me to get beer. Odd but true. I don’t drink beer; it tastes of yeast. Yeast and maybe sugar, the wrong kind of sugar, a different sugar than the glucose that hangs in bags, a different sugar than the sheen of sauce on my strawberries. There are no strawberries in college, either.