I just sit here now, the TV droning, and remember. That whole situation, after the divorce – the severing. My tools, my hands, fixing others’ leaks… but my own life, a burst pipe. I think about the pathology of it all, how quickly loyalties shift. The silent years. And sometimes, late at night, I wonder if a different choice, that ONE thing… would have made the difference. It’s too late now. Just the quiet.