Pop open the can. Take a swig. Light another smoke. Keep an eye on the floor – make sure no one’s pushing the stripper too hard. Yea, it’s all good. Time to make the rounds.
Three years is a long time for many, for me it passed by in a blink of an eye. Sure; the seconds turned to hours and the minutes to days, but on a whole, I remember the last three years as a blur. There are patches of memory which seem to shy away from attention, and there are those that stand out far too strongly for comfort.
And of course, there was my muse.
