It was mostly the diesel that the buses blew into the air, but we also knew it for the situation it was.

Music was all around us and old friends smiled as we approached. There were hugs and jokes and invites to parties. There were comments about who was good this year, who'd quit, the basic gossip.

There were those odd looks that people sometimes give you when something bad happens and they can't seem to believe it on their own.

A guy I'd taught hugged me and whispered "I won't believe it. You gave your life to this art... how could God have broken you?"

I looked down at my hands and then in his eyes and said, "I don't think God had much to do with it."

A nodeshell commando action

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