Another loss tomorrow licks shots and the taste of bitter hits the lips. Another late night at the Kava lounge, simping empty shells, attempting to spend less, yet never shortchanged in the company of inquest as trauma abounds, leads to drama, and resounds infinitesimally for a few brief moments before the healing kicks in, leads to drama, leads to trauma. For when we spoke, and when we spoke, I would swear I had never felt better