It’s back. A slight ache behind one eye, the left one. It always spasms exactly eight times then settles into a dull pain.

A splinter, nothing more.

I felt it before the drought.

Before the “election.”

Before the occupation.

It’s back again.

What happens next?

It’s never nothing.

Adrian L. Cook is glad to have 2025 in the rearview and is creeping stealthily into 2026 hoping this year leaves him (and his cherished people) well enough alone.