Breaker Whiskey

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday.

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[TRANSCRIPT]

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I just realized—I never even finished my story the other day. I got distracted telling you about that other fight, the one we had when I came in from the cold. 

After she said that, about our future, I stormed off. Obviously. I couldn’t stand there and look at her after I’d revealed so much in one simple sentence and been completely rejected so I took a shower and ignored her for the rest of the day. Then, that night, I was sitting by the fire, and I remembered, I was reading—god knows what, I don’t think I was paying attention to a single sentence, I think I just wanted something that would make it look like I wasn’t just sitting and moping—and I fell asleep. 

And when I woke up—well, I was woken up. I felt something, on my face, a warm brush of something and I opened my eyes and Harry was there, pushing my hair off my forehead. And she’s bookmarked my place in the book too, closed it and put it on the coffee table and then she’d…

She jerked back the moment I opened my eyes. But there was no mistaking what she’d been doing. And I just…lost it. That’s what broke me. That she’d show me affection only when I wasn’t awake to see it. 

I never expected—never planned to ask her outright. But I did. I just asked her what she felt for me. What she wanted from me. And she—she fucking refused to answer. Fifty seconds earlier she’d had her fingertips tenderly stroking my hair and she couldn’t answer a simple fucking question. So I told her my answer. 

I told her—I told her I’d been in love with her since the first time I saw her laugh. That I’d respected her first, stood in awe of her art knowledge, her talent, her expert way of handling beautiful things. I’d watch her hands when we were packing up the goods and thought I’d never seen someone treat something with such care and make it look like art unto itself. Like some kind of meditative practice. Like something holy. 

And then, the moment it left my mouth, I told her that was actually a lie—that I’d really been attracted to her first, and then came the respect. And that I’d bounced between those two feelings and complete irritation for months and months and then I saw her crack up at a dumb joke and it was like an air raid siren went off in my head. I immediately knew I was in the kind of trouble I wasn’t going to get out of. 

And the whole time—the whole time I’m telling her this, she’s just backing away and shaking her head like she doesn’t want to hear it. Like I’m being cruel to her in saying it. And I say that I thought that maybe, maybe, she felt the same way but clearly I was wrong. And that it’s been long enough, and the house is…in shape enough and that she’s got enough supplies and know-how that she’ll be fine, probably, and now she’s looking at me like I’m crazy because she doesn’t understand yet what I’m saying. 

So I tell her outright—I have to go. I have to leave, have to see what’s out there, who’s out there, because staying here now that I know we have no future is torture and that’s when she shouts at me. That she’s the one who’s been agonized all this time. That she’s wanted me for so long, but she never had the courage to do anything before and that she couldn’t now because it would all be a lie. That she couldn’t let me think she loved me when I didn’t know that she’d betrayed me. 

Well, she didn’t say exactly that. I was the only one who used…that particular word in the conversation. Not betrayed, the—the other one. I’d never used that word for anyone before, not since my parents, and never in that kind of context. And she couldn't even…

It didn’t matter. Once she started telling me what she meant—started telling me the truth, the full truth…it was worse than any rejection would have been. She tried to explain it away, tried to say that she was trying to protect me, that she wanted to get us both out of a bad situation but all I heard was that she’d betrayed me and then lied about it. All I heard was that she, like always, thought she knew what was best and removed my own wants and needs and fucking free will from the equation entirely. 

And then she begged me not to go. She begged me to let her make things right and I…I couldn’t look at her like that, after all that, and walk away. So I didn’t. I stayed and I—

I stayed and I punished her. I didn’t speak to her, didn’t let her try to apologize, I barely stayed in a room if she walked in. And then even that got to be too much to bear. 

So I did the thing she was most afraid of, and I left. 

[click, static]

See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday.

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[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

You know what? I think it’s shit that you betraying us was something that was supposed to happen. Apparently. But me protecting us…that’s what fucked everything up forever. You loved throwing that into my face when you finally told me the truth. That if I’d just trusted you, I never would’ve tried to escape, I never would’ve killed Billings, we wouldn’t be fugitives. 

Little did you know, right? Just how right you were. If I’d just trusted you. Except…you gave me no fucking reason to trust you. You told me nothing about what was happening, as far as I was concerned, we were just two prisoners being transported, not fucking…states’ witness or whatever the fuck you were. You didn’t trust me enough to tell me. 

And you know what? You were right about that too. I would’ve told Pete. I was loyal to him and I—well, I would’ve tried to talk you out of doing something stupid but if you’d told me after you’d already gone to the feds, yeah, I would’ve ratted you out to Pete. A snitch for a snitch. 

None of this would’ve happened if you’d just trusted us. And if I do see you again, if you do come find me, then I think we need to have a very long conversation about what trust looks like from here on out. 

[click, static]

See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday.

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[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

I keep replaying our fight in my head. The one that marked the beginning of the end. 

It’s weird, I remember so many things she said with perfect clarity. “Do you have any idea what kind of torture it’s been sharing a space with you all this time?” She shouted that at me. Harry so rarely shouts—the fact that she was raising her voice for so much of the conversation was almost as jarring as what she was saying. 

Torture. Here I thought we’d been living in relative peace and every day was torture for her. Torture she thought she deserved. Torture that, since that fight, I’ve sometimes thought she deserved. 

Except it wasn’t just her being drawn and quartered, was it? In denying herself something she thought she didn’t deserve, she put me through the wringer too. 

That’s how the argument started. I finally just…snapped. There’s only so much one woman can take, you know? And the signals I got from Harry had always been mixed, but that night…I was sitting by the fire, Harry was in her studio, as she so often was and I was…honestly, I don’t even remember what I was doing. I’d fixed yet another leak in the roof that day, the house had really been starting to fall apart and there was only so much I could do and—

That’s the thing, we fought earlier that day. I came in from outside and it was—it was a fucking cold day, you know one of those February days where it feels like winter is never going to end and my hands were frozen solid and when I came into the kitchen, I was—I was rubbing them together, trying to get them to warm up and Harry had already put the kettle on and she came over and—and she stepped right up to me and put her hands around mine. And we stood there, barely a breath apart, her body heat sinking into mine, my eyes still watering from the cold air outside. 

There were so many of those little moments—moments when she’d look at me and I’d think…here it is. Finally. After years of holding my breath, the exhale is finally coming. 

But then she stepped back. She started fixing me tea and it felt like I was going to suffocate, from holding the air in for too long and we’d—well, she’d agreed to go out more the last few years. To that picnic, on small hikes, supply runs that were a little more far flung and so I—I tried to get some relief, from all of it, from the cold and the breathlessness and so I said something about going somewhere warm. A vacation. I suggested we go on a fucking vacation. 

And of course it turned into the fight that we always had when I made that suggestion—how we were safe where we were, how we didn’t know what else was out there and I—well, I think I did tell you about this particular fight once, maybe, because for a long time it was the only part of that day I could allow myself to think about—but I—I told her that we were never going to move forward if we didn’t literally move forward, that we wouldn’t have a future together if we kept standing still and that was the first time either of us had ever spoken anything like that out loud and she just said “we don’t have a future either way” and that…that was that. 

(laugh) What fucking irony, huh? Both of us arguing about the future when we were in one of our own making. 

Did you know, Harry? Did you know that things weren’t safe out here? Did you know where we were all along? 

If I find out that you—I mean, I’m already having a hard enough time forgiving you for—there are some things that I’ll never get over, Harry. 

[click, static]

See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday.

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[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

I’m. I’m here. Where I said to meet me. If you remember that day in Philly, if you remember the song, if you remember the lyrics well enough to know where I’m talking about…it’s a lot of ifs. But I’m not sure what else to do. I’m not even sure I want to see you but—

What other choice do we have? I tried being away from you. But we’re tied together, whether we want to be or not. We were always connected, weren’t we, but it was by choice. We chose to work together, to be part of the same crew. We could’ve walked away at any time. You could’ve walked away. Why didn’t you just walk away?

Instead, you ratted us out, you cut a deal on my behalf—you sliced a fish hook underneath my skin and dragged me along with you and when I tried to wriggle free, all I did was get you stuck to that very same hook. And now I worry that if we pulled it free from our flesh, we’d both bleed to death.

The thing—the thing that really infuriates me is that…I was ready to forgive you. I was ready to move on from it, move forward, figure out how to deal with our new reality together. Hell, there were times when I thought I should just sacrifice myself so that you could live. That’s how much I—

[click, static]

I didn’t want you living with the consequences of my actions. When all I’ve been doing for years is living with the consequences of yours. And now Don—Donnie’s dead.  And I still have no idea who to blame. 

[click, static]

See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday.

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[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

I’ve still got the fucking ingredients for ambrosia in my passenger seat. Donnie—

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He—he made fun of me for calling him “Don” when I talked about him before we actually found each other. Because I almost never called him that to his face. But it was like all that time had passed and he became a cardboard cutout of himself. Don D’Agostino. Pete always called him Don—so did Harry actually—but Richie and I, all his friends really, called him Donnie. I didn’t even notice that I instinctually reverted to that until he asked why I’d been referring to him as Don on the radio. 

I don’t know how to refer to him now. 

[click, static]

See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday.

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[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

She said it was the right thing to do. That the gravy train had to stop at some point, and that she wanted to get off before she became a casualty of it. I think that’s a pretty fucking presumptuous thing to assume—plenty of thieves don’t get caught and we were good. And, besides, she could have just quit! She didn’t have to be doing what she was doing, but when she found out about Pete…

When I’ve said that I never knew much about Pete’s life, that was true. Mostly. I really never did know anything about his personal life or what he’d been doing before putting together this crew. I never asked and he never volunteered any information. 

But that wasn’t the whole truth. I didn’t know much about his life then but Harry…Harry filled in some blanks. 

Pete wasn’t just an art thief. It wasn’t all penthouses and auction houses for him, apparently. He started with banks. And something like ninety percent of all bank robbers get caught, but Pete was…the best of the best. The feds had no clue who he was, barely even had his height and race. And then, one off the robberies went bad and he—a few people died. Three people. 

So he came back to his hometown of New York to disappear among the millions. He cooled his heels and then he started in again, just on a higher brow racket. 

I don’t know how Harry figured this out. We…we didn’t get to that point in our conversation. (scoffs) “Conversation”, there’s a euphemism for it. Argument? Screaming match? Dropping a nuclear bomb into our tentatively okay existence? I was a little more focused on the revelation that the person I’d been living with for six years had betrayed me and the people we cared about. The revelation that my mentor had killed a few people…

I don’t know. I’m still not sure…Harry has no reason to lie. Not about this. And, I guess, there were things through the years that made me think Pete’s past was a lot more checkered than even your typical thief. But I wasn’t lying when I said he always seemed like a stand-up guy to me. He was. He was good and kind and fair and the fact that he made his money through illegal endeavors felt really secondary to all of that. 

I’m not sure the knowledge that he’s killed people—multiple people and not—not entirely by accident, not like—

It should change things. I know it should. And it isn’t that I don’t believe Harry, even not knowing how she found out about it, it—I don’t think she would have done what she did unless she’d been certain. I’ll give her that. But it hasn’t reshaped who Pete is in my head. 

He took me in, mentored me, was a friend. He made me his ally when he could have just as easily made me an enemy. He saw something in me. Something worth…something worth attention and care. And I hadn’t had that since my father died and I—

I’ve thought a lot about what I would have done if I’d known before. I’ve shared nearly every other thought I’ve had in my head besides these ones, because I had to make room somehow, over this past—god, year, since I learned the truth. 

What if Harry had come to me first before going to the feds? What if I’d been the one to uncover Pete’s past and not her? What would I have done?

I wouldn’t have betrayed him, that’s for sure and fucking certain. I probably would’ve confronted him about it. Maybe. I would’ve wanted to hear his side of things. I would’ve wanted to know why he did what he did, how he felt about it now. And maybe I wouldn’t have—well, I wouldn’t have understood it, the way I do now, if I’d known before, because if I’d known, we never would’ve been arrested and I’d never have killed Billings and—

[click, static]

I still think I would’ve been sympathetic. Empathetic. I don’t know. I would’ve given him…grace. Forgiveness. Even if it isn’t mine to forgive. I would’ve loved him just the same. 

And that’s the rub, isn’t it? Harry said that she could never—she said that she wasn’t honest about how she felt because she was too swallowed up by guilt, was too scared to tell me the truth and have me run away and too scared to start anything when she had this secret but what if it wasn’t that at all? What if the way she felt about me—the way she’d ever be able to feel about me—changed the moment Billings hit the pavement? She found the truth out about Pete and stopped caring for him in a blink. She saw what I did, so surely—

[click, static]

Well, in any case, I guess she was right. I did run away. 

[click, static]

See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday.

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[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

I’m tired of taking all the blame, Harry. I know—I know it’s my fault that we’re here, it’s my fault that Junior’s here, it’s my fault that Don is dead and Leann lived the end of her life alone, but it’s not only my fault. I’m not the only one that led us here. 

I made a choice—a bad choice in terrible circumstances—and, you know what? I’m not sure I did choose it. It was an accident, I got unlucky, I made a mistake. I chose to try and escape, I chose to try and help you escape and it cost a man his life. 

But we would have never been there in the first place if it hadn’t been for you. And I’m fucking tired of pretending like I’m not mad at you for it. 

[click, static]

Who am I kidding? I haven’t been pretending anything—it’s more that I’m mad at you for a different thing every other week. But I’ve been keeping your secret. I’ve been keeping it from Birdie and Fox and Junior and whoever else is listening here and I kept it from Don. And he died thinking he had two friends in this world. Me. And you. 

And that’s a lie. I’m done with telling that lie.

You weren’t his friend. Not really. I’m not sure you’re even my friend, even if you think—

[click, static]

Did you hear my conversation with Birdie the other day? That they have a not-quite-friend-not-quite-enemy in Fox? That they tried to meddle in things and it went very very badly? Any of that sound familiar?

You betrayed us, Harry. You—you cut a deal with the fucking FBI to get off scot-free and you set us up. I don’t know how I spent so many years not suspecting a thing because we’d never even been close to caught before but that night, out of nowhere—

[click, static]

Maybe I haven’t been pretending to not be mad at you for it, maybe that has been very fucking apparent, but I think I’ve been pretending—even to myself, especially to myself—that I can forgive you for it. 

I’m not sure I can. I’m not sure I will.

[click, static]

See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday.

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[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

We—we figured out where Junior was holed up. I couldn’t say that on the radio when we were still…I didn’t want to mess up anything we might attempt by blabbing about it. Even if we weren’t agreeing on what we wanted to attempt. 

He wanted to kill Junior. I wanted to run. It’s a big country, we can—I’m confident that we could hide. Junior could keep coming and coming but if we went far enough and remote enough and I threw away my radio and just lived with Harry and Don, gave up hope finding anyone else…we would’ve been okay. Finding us would’ve been a nearly insurmountable task. 

Then again, with Fox giving coordinates out of peoples’ locations…maybe not. That was Don’s argument. I figured we could defend ourselves if it came to that but…

But he wanted to go home. He—he was so much the same, but I think being here, alone…I think it broke him somehow. He was…harsher, had a shorter temper. I didn’t—it didn’t fucking matter, you know? That he had this look in his eye or that he snapped a little more because we were together and also, I understood. I got softer and he got harder and the central difference between our experiences is that he was alone and I wasn’t. If I’d been by myself all that time, I think I’d be out for blood too. 

I didn’t want to believe…

It turns out he was right. I think he was right. I know Birdie didn’t answer me, but what if Junior dying is the solution? I don’t understand how but, would I…

No. I’ve already—I’m paying for what I’ve done. And it’s not my right to try and undo that. 

[click, static]

See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday.

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[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

I—I’m not sure what to do with that. “You seemed lonely”. 

You always do this, say just the right thing to keep me wanting to talk to you—

[click, static]

I know I seemed lonely. I was fucking lonely. I am fucking lonely. But if you’re observers of all of this shit—and there’s no way that we’re the only ones, I know that—then you have to be observing a lot of really lonely people. Why me? Why choose to talk to me? Why…(sigh)

[click, static]

[a beep]

Am I going crazy or did you just—

[click, static]

[four dots, two dots]

Say again. 

[four dots, two dots]

“Hi”. You’re saying fucking…hi. 

Well. Hi. 

[four dots, two dots]

Is this Birdie?

[one dot]

I guess you remember. I— I want to be happy to hear from you, to talk to you, I do, but I…

Okay, same as last time—one dit for yes, two for no, three dits if the answer is too complicated to explain and one dash for “I don’t know”—and I better not hear those last two very much. Alright?

[click, static; one dot]

Right then.

[click, static]

Did Junior kill Don?

[one dot]

Did he— did he mean to?

[one dash]

It was a struggle, wasn’t it? They got into some kind of altercation and…

[one dot]

Right. (deep breath) Right. 

[click, static]

Okay, uh, what else ask you…if you’ve been listening, am I right? Am I right in thinking that when I killed Billings, I branched us off into another future, and dragged Harry and Junior and Leann and— and Don and who the hell knows who else? Am I right about that?

[one dot]

Okay. I mean, not that I totally believe but…okay. 

You and Fox—you’re observers. Do you control the timelines?

[two dots]

Who does?

[one dash]

You don’t know? You don’t know who your own boss is?

[two dots]

Fuck. 

Is it God?

[two dots; one dash]

No, you don’t know. Okay. Helpful. 

Do you know Fox? Personally?

[one dot]

Are you friends?

[two dots]

Are you enemies?

[one dot; two dots]

A yes and a no. I’m guessing that means it’s a little more complicated than just friends and enemies. 

[one dot]

Yeah, okay. You both work for the same…entity though? You’re both bookkeepers for the universe or whatever you want to call it?

[one dot]

Are there others?

[one dot]

Where are they?

[click, static]

Okay, yeah, I guess that’s hard to answer yes or no. Are they observing different timelines?

[one dot]

How many timelines are there?

[one dot]

(scoff) Yes, there are many? What, is the number infinite?

[one dot]

Oh. How many are you looking over? Dozens?

[two dots]

Hundreds?

[one dot]

Shit, okay. And it’s the same for Fox?

[one dot]

And you don’t like each other…when you said you betrayed your job, did you betray Fox?

[two dots]

No. Did you betray your boss? Another…coworker?

[two dots]

Also no. 

Did you betray…the people you’re observing?

[one dot]

Because what—because you observed wrong?

[click, static]

Did you interfere? Did you try to fix it?

[one dot]

Yes. And it went wrong. People got hurt. 

[one dot]

Yeah, well, that’s the way it fucking goes, isn’t it?  

Is that why you don’t like Fox? Because they’re trying to…I don’t know, are they trying to fix it in their own fucked up way?

[one dot]

They’re the one who turned me onto the Asimov book…that’s what they want, isn’t it? They want one perfect exact timeline?

[one dot]

And they’re going around to a bunch of different timelines, trying to correct it?

[one dot]

Jesus. Do I—do I have to die for that to happen? Do we all have to die?

[two dots]

Thank god. Does Junior have to die?

[click, static]

Birdie?

[bad interference]

Birdie?

[click, static]

Birdie are you there?

[click, static]

Shit.

[click, static]

See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday.

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[TRANSCRIPT]

[click, static]

Okay, but here’s what I don’t understand—and, yes, I know I’m not supposed to be talking to you, I’m supposed to be clearing my head and enjoying the fucking warm weather and—

Why did you even talk to me in the first place, huh? Why reach out at all if you’re not supposed to interfere. And sure, you never gave me anything actually useful or actionable, not in the way that Fox did but— 

[click, static]

I also…listen, my head isn’t exactly cool, but I’m not quite as—that is to say, I’ve calmed down a little. And I realized that it was really goddamn stupid of me to just…drive away from where Harry was just because I—

Well, I’m still furious. I’m sick over what happened with Don and I’m not sure how I could look you in the face, Harry, not when none of this would’ve happened if you’d never—

[click, static]

But you’re the only ally I have. Or, at least, the closest thing to an ally that I’ll get. So I don’t want to abandon you entirely. 

I’ve been trying to think of the best way to communicate a location to you without revealing anything to Junior and I’ve really had to dredge this memory up, so I have no idea if you’ll…

There was a song playing when—that job that we did in Philly in sixty-six? We went to that all-night diner to talk about the plan and Richie and— the guys were arguing over what to use their one quarter for to play on the jukebox and as they were going at it, a song was playing that I knew but that you didn’t. Or, at least, you didn’t like it if you did know it. And I was tapping my foot in time and my leg was bouncing the bench we were sharing and you snapped at me to stop and then I snapped back and Pete snapped at the guys and basically all of us were in a terrible mood that started with you losing your patience. 

That song. There’s a place mentioned in that song. I’ll be there in two weeks. Meet me there or don’t. I…it’s not that I don’t care. I just—I can’t be responsible for you, anymore. You have to make it on your own.  

[click, static]

[beeps]

-.-- --- ..- / ... . . -- . -.. / .-.. --- -. . .-.. -.--

You seemed lonely

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