There are days when the universe imposes its limits. There are days when the numbers overwhelm, when the beeps at my side are bullies, when things hurt again. After ten years it should be implacable; the skin should be thick enough. But when it gets this thick, every intrusion pierces the surface, digs a little too deep. And on these days the best thing to do is sit very still and listen. Let the universe clatter with other voices, other numbers, other sorrows. When I get up, the skin, it sloughs off, leaving the hurt behind for some other day.