[Busywork is a great excuse to linger. And it is a linger, make no mistakes. Dread of a different sort creeps in.

The question seals it. Richie's eyes lock shut. Shameful. He chuckles low and sits forward, elbows to knees.]

Something like that. [It was a bad 'un, then. The details have already half leaked away, as dreams always do.] Didn't say anything too weird, did I? The way my ex tells it I've got a lot of songs to sing once the lights go out.