[ It's exactly as bad as it should be, and it only gets worse. There's no time to say you and fourteen million other precise twists of fate like that makes the slightest difference in practice. It's no place to drop losses like cruel confetti into the wound he's just torn open.
Do I make it to sixty takes the wind right out of him. The replacement breath sucks in in staccato beats, quick and staggered. ]
Tony.
[ Warning. Apology. An answer, for all it tries not to be. ]
no subject
Do I make it to sixty takes the wind right out of him. The replacement breath sucks in in staccato beats, quick and staggered. ]
Tony.
[ Warning. Apology. An answer, for all it tries not to be. ]