It just never really stops, you know? Like the water is always running and the floor is always slick and I can’t even remember what my hands looked like before they were constantly prune-y and smelling like lemon-scented bleach and old food. I’m sitting here on the edge of the tub at 2am because I don’t want to go into the kitchen and run into Leo. He’s probably still up playing games and he’ll ask why I didn’t come out to the pub with them tonight. And I’ll have to make that face. You know the one? Where you look at your shoes and act like you’re just really bummed about your bank account balance. Is that weird?