You Fixed Everything
I laid there on the ground, writhing in pain. The song of troof ringing in my ears, I heard the cracks, I saw the eggs, I felt the drop.
Oh the horrible drop, the pain to start it all. I thought the challenges of the game were my true obstacle, but the hurt in my eyes, the slowness in the air, those were my enemies. Everyone's enemies, and I was beaten.
But I wasn't down. I got off the floor and sat down pushing my firm buttox to the seat. The prowd Scottish flag hung behind and the heat was making pearls of sweat throughout my skin.
But the heat was a problem, it caused the wrong mood, and it helped the collapse.
I made the call, a friend, a partner.
And the line was empty, I couldn't hear nothing but the dead buzzing noise of a skype corpse. And the corpse was me.
I knew of his pain now, the pain the lion felt when the calls failed. The aching of his heart for empty minutes while I was away. And once I finally got in those calls, I laughed, his pain diminishes between a bald smile.
I deserved the pain, I deserved the dwindling numbers of people who watches my pain.
And then, a voice, booming loud and clear.
So incredibly British.
You fixed everything.