Sometimes I break down so hard you can hear it, and when I can stand to come near it with means to repair, the chances of walking out unscathed are slim to none.
 I know because I’m one; a victim of second-hand breakdowns and bad impressions, made under intoxicated conditions with poorly lit expressions. And I regret not going back, I regret not missing flights, I regret not asking for more and taking chances that I can only hope will not be forgotten. My fingers are crossed.