no use telling you about how it was.

struck now, by the importance of making it through and by the survival necessary to make it through some impeding evening.

the boys' band played, and i sat on the corner of the deck, alone, watching some of my closest friends channel something and taking pictures i saw, out of focus and badly lit.

we're even now. myself and my tendencies toward solitude.

the party dispursed, and a few of us remained for hours, staring at the fire and telling the worst jokes.

the drizzling rain lasted all night. if you were out for a few minutes, no harm done. out all night, and i returned home half soaked.

i didn't drink, but i cried.

i didn't toast, and i didn't kiss.

fortunately, no one seemed to notice when i sunk down into my posture, relieved that this countdown was finally over, giving in to the rest of the evening that could be without.

we used to do it right.

we used to have that look in our eyes.

i suppose i can be content living in the past, i've built a nice home here with our picture over the mantel, and you're out fixing the hinge on the gate of our picket fence.