hebdomadis

brentSeven days have passed and my stomach’s still in knots. There’s an empty place that you once filled, my friend, and it’s not getting any easier. If anything, each day that passes is another little cut, another reminder of your absence. It is a bitter sting and one that will be felt even more so come the weekend, when we gather round the table. A place will be set for you, old friend, should you decide to join us…

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