The Craftsman’s Table
We stayed together, rotting together, hating each other, relying on one another, desperately avoiding loneliness. Young and stupid becomes old and cursed. It’s a funny thing the fallout of a relationship, you might not miss a beat, you may not even have loved the song, but the silence is crushing, give us anything but the absence of sound
We become addicts, the idea of quitting too painful an option, even for us in the most…