... Letters are better.

There we were, stuck like unopened pages of a book I’m going to be cooped up with for the next many days. Locked in by conversations that neither of us wanted to bri – You know what, you’re drunk, give me your keys… -

…Unavoidable but most likely unessecary, minds were shouted in the quietest of voices, illustrated with eyes like wayward darts. It was like winning a debate for the side I didn’t believe in, or worse, on topic I knew nothing about and had won by default because the other team had drank too much the night before, been caught by chaperones and become disqualified.

Presented with a present that proves what I didn’t know - you listened, perhaps only once, but the one time that it was important. This fact made me wish I’d never brought it up, it made me think things could work. You and my conscious teamed up to drag it out of me, which in the end was probably for the best. Giving up was never a hobby of mine, but this time I know it was for the greater good. We will still be great. Good.