They wouldn’t all be Craigs. Not after a while.
There can’t be that many people around who are worth less than I am.
And most importantly, I realize, when the muffled hammering begins on the outside of the greenroom, three raw voices shouting my name, what the f**k am I still doing here, for this many days in a row, in the one bit of shelter where my friends might think to search for me?
