We have all gotten our food and now we're sitting in some hallway, a statue made of what looks to be some sort of metal alloy situated directly across from us. I think I remember this place from previous years, and I also think I know we shouldn't be eating here. But really it doesn't matter to me, as long as I'm with you, but I've already said that.

We all talk for a while, what about I can't really recall. Probably something simple and fleeting; meaningless. You point out another musician you know, another guitar player it seems, there's a lot of them around here. I venture to ask how you know so many of them, and of course you say that you don't know. Humble. I guess that's what they'd call you.

I'd call you mine, if I could.

The time flies by quickly, and somehow it seems like only minutes have passed, but really its been hours. I would count the years in seconds for you if it meant you'd come back to me. But I won't, because neither will you.

We get reprimanded for our food, I saw it coming from a mile away. I would have been okay with it if it didn't bring about your absence. You head off with your friend, the one you're staying with, and I'm left with the only one I kind of know. I think she and I are starting to get along better, because I stick around with her for the hours you're gone. But the whole time you're gone I can't help wishing you would just come back already. I miss you when you're gone, but even when you're not it still sometimes feels like you're not really there.

Is that how you felt when I left?

I'm so sorry.

It's all my fault.