Walk Away
Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.
I lay for a long time on top of the bedspread with my clothes on, thinking, thinking. I couldn’t even remember half of what we had just said, which was unusual. Usually I could play back a traumatic exchange like a movie. In fact, I was usually helpless to stop the endless replays. But it was all fucked up now. I wasn’t even sure which of us had said what. Meltdown. All I remembered was that I’d given him an ultimatum. Stop the bullshit or I’m pulling the plug.
I thought about the little truce we’d had, keeping out of each other’s way, like that was supposed to restore my confidence and get me playing better. I had been playing better, acting better… what was going to happen now?
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