They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. You hadn’t been gone for five minutes and I felt like slitting my wrists. If that’s how I react to a six day trip, I refuse to ponder forever.
On the drive home, I listened to Guns ‘n Roses, a band you hate. I thought Welcome To The Jungle might pump me up. But your stereo, ever finicky about MP3 CDs, insisted on playing Don’t Cry. How fucking ironic.