
GROUND TO A HALT
MY NERVES ARE SHOT, though it hasn’t actually gotten bad for me at all yet. It’s seven in the morning. The kids are still sleeping, stayed up late yesterday, spent forever playing Fortnite, even taught me the basics—how to construct fences or walls, and how to destroy them with a pickax. But the destruction gave me no satisfaction. I handed the controller back, unable to get what I needed from the game.
While the kids were playing, I got a letter from the headmistress of my younger son’s school about plans for the following week. On its second page was a bad translation of a quote attributed to