Martin knows it’s 14 steps from the front door to his mailbox. He’s never counted them on purpose, just the way he knows where every book in his house is.

And it comforts him.

Martin is employed by a university library in cataloging. People unfairly judge him and think, ‘look at the autistic guy working on books.’

He’s not sure when he expected to be more than this. He still has occasional days where the low and empty feelings appear. He stopped trying to figure them out. He simply lets them pass by.

In the evenings after work he makes himself a cup of tea, sits with his book or stares at the yellow forsythia bush inn the backyard change colors as the sun sets.

This life brings him comfort.

Martin is autistic and lives an independent, satisfying life.