At 3:30 p.m. on an overcast Tuesday afternoon, lathered in Aveeno SPF 100 sunscreen, I dashed out my door and sprinted across my front yard as if my life depended on it.

And I'm pretty sure it did.

Despite the gray skies, the thick jacket, and the layer of greasy sunscreen, my skin still felt like it was on fire. My garage is not attached. Back in the day, my ex-husband didn't think we needed an attached garage. Houses with unattached garages were cheaper.

Thanks, asshole.

Of course, little did he know that one day the sun would be my enemy and I would have to endure daily torturous mid-afternoon sprints.

Anyway, at the garage, I fumbled with the Masterlock until I got the key in and opened the sucker. I noticed my hands were already shaking and reddening. Any longer and they would begin blistering.

I'm such a freak.

I yanked open the garage door far harder than I probably should have. The thing nearly tore off its rusty tracks. Once open, I dashed inside and breathed a small sigh of relief, even though there was never really any relief for me. Not during the day, at least. Not when I should be sleeping in a dark room with the blinds pulled shut and dead to the world.

I started the van, cranked up the AC, and let it cool my burning flesh. Finally, I backed out of the garage and headed for my kids' school.

Just another day in the neighborhood.

* * *

After picking up the kids and spending the evening helping them with their homework, I called up a new sitter I'd been using lately, a very responsible sixteen-year-old girl. Luckily, she was available, and when she arrived, I hugged my kids and kissed them and told them to be good. Mercifully, neither shuddered at my cold touch. Cold lips, cold fingers and cold hugs were the norm in our family. Still, Anthony promptly wiped his kiss off.

"Gross, Mom," he said, never taking his eyes off his video game, giving it far more concentration than he ever did his homework. As an added precaution, he absently raised his shoulder, using it to wipe his cheek clean.

Now, with the sun mercifully far behind planet Earth, I found myself heading east on the 91 Freeway. Me, and nearly all of southern California, too. I settled in for the long commute, tempted, as usual to pull over and take flight.

Instead, I sat back and turned up the radio and tried to remember what life was like before I became what I currently am.

But I couldn't. At least, not really, and that scared the hell out of me. My new reality dominated all aspects of my life, all thoughts and all actions, and as I followed a sea of red taillights and bad drivers, I realized my humanity was slipping further and further away.

I hate when that happens.

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