Carry me home tonight
As the last stories and laughter settled into a gentle hush, we let the silence stretch, golden and full, like the warm cider in our hands. The fire had burned down to glowing embers, and outside, snowflakes drifted like ash under the moonlight. Then, quietly, August stood and walked over to the guitar leaning in the corner. He looked around the room, then down at the strings, and started to play. “Give me a second, I...” he sang, his voice low and a little rough, “I need to get my story straight...” Max also took his guitar. “My lover, she's waiting for me just across the bar..." Arthur started banging on the table as if it was a drum. “Between the drinks and the subtle things, the holes in my apologies, you know I'm trying hard to take it back...” One by one, we joined in. “Tonight
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