It wasn't far off that, no. If only I'd known in which direction to swim...though truth be told I'm not sure I'd have made it even then. But what's this, then? Casting aspersions on my immaculate handwriting, are we? I'm hurt.

[And he is hurt, in big and small ways, but not by this. And those hurts feel softened in this moment, here in this utter hole of a bar, in this city an indefinable distance away from the one he knows. So he laughs, its edges made blurry by the creep and slide of alcohol in his blood, a good warm sound.]

And ah, well no. I haven't. Do you think anyone would read them, if I did?