I hate the last Tuesday of the month.
Pulled from a fleeting dream by Hilde hollering from down the hall,
I wanted nothing more than to drop back into the porno of my own
making. The hard-on I sported, demanded attention. But knowing if I
didn't respond, Hil would be opening the door, making her demands in
person. The last time she walked in on me beating my meat, she
didn't let it drop for over a month.
"Yeah, in a minute!" I yelled back, getting out of bed. And ignored
the need. At least for the moment. Once my duty was over with, once
the twins were packed off to day camp, and once Hil went to bed for
the day, I could roll action on Studman Productions.
"Morning," she tossed over her shoulder, smiling when I stumbled
into the kitchen moments later. She was standing at the stove,
making oatmeal for the boys.
I paused, milk carton to my mouth and looked at her over its rim.
Way too happy after pulling a twelve. "You high?" I had to ask.
Her normal scowl returned. "Fuck you." Turning her back to me, she
continued to stir the paste crap. "And get a glass, asshole. No one
wants your germs."
"You did, once," I shot back, grinning.
She answered with a lone finger held over her shoulder. "When I was
five and you were straight, faggot."
The trade in barbs over, she pulled out a couple plastic bowls from
the cupboard, and announced, "I made a ten dollar tip last night,
and Frank asked me out on a date." She spun to face me, the smile
back. "A real live date. Can you believe it?"
The girl was practically dancing, the excitement rolled off her.
It'd been years since she'd been like that, since the shit we don't
talk about happened to her. I only nodded, putting the milk
back. "That's great, Hil."
The twins shuffled in about then, Bobby rubbing at his eyes, and
Billy with his shirt on inside out. I stopped him, and made the
change without saying a word. A sleepy-eyed, four year old was
allowed those mistakes. Hilde finished doctoring the boys' cereal
and plopped the bowls on the table, chattering away about her Frank.
Like always. A regular customer, he often came in at least twice
during her shift just to talk to her. I haven't met the guy yet, but
he sounded like someone Hil would like back. And he'd been the only
man interested in her in recent months who had a job and wasn't
looking for her to support him.
"You'd better hurry, Duo. I'll be along after the camp bus comes."
She made shushing motions with her hands, making the twins laugh.
I smiled but gave her a quick hug as I passed. "It is great news,
Shutting the door firmly behind me, I jumped the three steps and
headed down the drive. Our street was quiet, at least this early in
the morning. Friday and Saturday nights, though, were a different
story. Most of the neighbors didn't cause trouble, it was the
cruisers. Two blocks south at the edge of the main strip, the boys
in their souped up, chopped up, beefed up toys raced down the street
and up to the next corner to rejoin the fray. Fuckin' stupid-assed
punks, anyway. I wanted a cigarette, but didn't have the buck-fifty
for a pack. Instead, I walked, fast.
I'd been making this same trip every month for the last two years,
since I'd turned sixteen. It was just a small part of being family -
my duty, my obligation, my contribution. I worked on and off when I
could, but not enough to do more than make sure we had heat in the
winter and cool air in the summer. Hilde wouldn't let me drop out of
school, said one idiot in the house was bad enough. I glared at the
Traffic picked up on Abbott. The tired residential melded into store
fronts with barred windows and neon signs. There were fewer weeds
growing between the cracks of the sidewalk, but the trash increased.
A laundromat, advertising large load washers and air conditioning. A
bar, with its walls reeking of piss and vomit. An empty lot filled
with glass, paper, boxes, metal fencing, a dirty mattress - all
discards no one cared about. A pawn shop sat on the corner, black
letters on white cardboard stuck in the window, gold wedding rings
and promising quick cash for unwanted jewelry; a beginning and an
end. My eyes skated past the lump of snoring clothing slouched over
in the doorway.
Across the street, lining the wall of a boarded up dry goods store,
a few of the girls were left and only one or two of the boys. A pay-
by-the-hour motel not a block away was good for business. At a
glance, I recognized two from school. One of the boys was a year
younger than me, a dropout and runaway, I'd heard rumor he'd become
a tweaker. The girl used to be a friend of Hil's from seventh grade.
They'd danced in the livingroom to songs on the radio, slept in the
same bed and giggled all night about boys in their classes. She
looked too thin, even from this distance. I turned my attention back
to the concrete.
Hilde and the twins were the only family left. It'd come close to
not having even them. Way back when, once upon a time, her mom and
my dad married, making us siblings. Growing up together, there
wasn't a whole lot either of us didn't know about the other; wasn't
a whole lot either of us wouldn't do for the other.
I crossed at Seventh, stopping in the middle to let the delivery
truck pass. Down two blocks, I paused at the tracks. There wasn't
many trains that came through any more, but every once in awhile,
one would surprise you. The warehouse I headed for was less than a
mile along the track shortcut, and almost two if I stayed on the
streets. The smell of pine and tar was strong away from the street,
noises were muted. Hilde would have a cow if she knew I walked the
rails. Like what happened with my father, she was afraid I'd share
Like I'd let a train hit me.
If I wanted to die, there were better ways. If I ever faced a train,
I'd be stopping it - wanna be Superman or not. Dying in the process
didn't concern me. I would not lay down to let one take my life. Not
Son of a bitch. Lost his job and thought the world was flushed down
the toilet. His wife had to work, in fact at the very same hash
shack Hilde does now, and he was ashamed of being unemployed. I was
six and could remember him leaving the house, wasn't even dark. He
never looked back, never said a word. It was two days before they
found his body. Mangled and bloated, officials concluded he'd been
walking the rail and was clipped by a train - the two o'clock
special. He'd been flung into a short patch of weeds flanking the
tracks, a short stretch of land between the business district and
another residential area.
Hilde's mom took me in, though through some stupid red tape she
couldn't claim social security. Not for her, not even for me. Here I
was, his only kid, and because the whore he impregnated didn't take
the time to fill out the birth certificate form, and the bastard
didn't correct the mistake, I became an instant nonentity. I was
almost shunted off to foster care.
From the tracks, I pushed my way through a collection of barrels,
rotting pallets and bundled boxes. The narrow alley barely let me
through, the sides of both buildings seemed to crowd closer together
every year; odors of cheap wine, semen, filthy bodies, and human
waste condensed and visible, hanging like fog between the walls.
Holding your breath wasn't an option. It was a necessity.
There, another block and the wait would begin.
Leaning against the red brick side of the abandoned warehouse, I
watched as others gather nearby, waiting for the doors to open and
begin admitting us poor schleps. The once cheery yellow paint
coating the old warehouse had long faded, dingy as an aging deb's
white prom dress. Behind the iron bars girding the window, I could
see a corner of one pane missing. It hadn't been broke the month
I smelled the cigarette before I realized he was there. Tilting my
head slightly, I spotted another boy about my age leaning against
the wall, like me. The difference was immediate, though. In his
designer jeans and pressed cambry shirt, he advertised of not being
a local. Some uptown punk coming down to make trouble. I thought of
moving across the street and would have, if he hadn't said anything.
It took a moment for the words to register. I shifted to where one
hip rested against the brick, my face settled into an icy
glare. "Fuck off."
He changed his stance to mimic mine, cigarette held to his
lips. "You should." It wasn't so much what he was saying, I'd been
approached before. But how he was saying it. Cool, unaffected, not
the least bit interested.
I took my time raking eyes over him. Styled, just mussed dark brown
hair, wide cheeks on a thin face, and a mouth made for kissing. His
shoulders weren't so much broad as well developed, filling the lax
space in his shirt. Narrow waist, tight package, and slender legs
ending in Doc Martens. He appeared as a gay GQ coverboy. Toss in a
rainbow button and he'd be able to write his own ticket.
"Do you hustle?" I vollied back.
Lips turned up one corner. "I don't have to." His eyes had been
doing their own assessing, and I stood straight, staring him down.
My secondhand clothing altogether wouldn't have cost as much as his
pair of socks. "You don't remember me, do you?" he asked softly.
I looked again, interest creeping in where rejection would have
dismissed him. It was his eyes that'd done it. "Heero?" He nodded.
Isn't that the shit. I took in his outfit again and glanced up and
down the street. "Haven't seen you in awhile. Been busy?"
"I finished my program, the one for the video game." His eyes had
lost some of the chill and he fished out a pack of Marlboros. He
held them out to me. "Smoke?"
He didn't have to ask me twice. I hadn't seen any but generics since
I picked up the habit, let alone smoked a name brand. "Thanks man."
Before I could reach for the lighter in my pocket, he held his flame
up for me to use. There was something going on I'd yet to figure
out. A guy I hadn't seen in at least two years, looking like he'd
stepped off a cover shoot, suddenly appearing at a government give
away? I inhaled and savored the texture. Mighty fine shit. Blowing
the smoke out, I asked, "So what are you doing here?"
Since I hadn't bothered to hide the suspicion in my voice, he shot
me a look and snorted. Dropping the spent butt, he crushed it out
beneath the thread of a boot I could only dream of owning. "To see
That startled me. "What the fuck? You high?"
Already shaking his head, he continued to stare at me. Like he
waited for an answer. This was his game and I didn't feel like
playing. Giving him a response would lead to more, and I only wanted
to get my cheese and go home. I turned away from him, leaned back
against the bricks and scanned the warehouse across the street. The
doors still hadn't opened, and the small crowd got thicker.
There were the old ladies, the ones who still believed you dressed
up when you left the house, not caring that their make-up stood out
bold and glaring on cheeks and lips. There were the indigents with
nothing better to do, and schemes to sell parts of their take for
pennies. Wine or crack if they had other change. Danny, the cripple,
who'd lost part of his leg in Vietnam, had been given space near the
door. Though he'd been offered a chair, he preferred to get around
on crutches. Willie, the bag lady from Crane Street, hung back
talking to herself, peering through the contents of her cart. I
wondered for a moment if she'd gained weight and then realized she
wore extra layers of clothing. She'd feel it in an hour when the
sun started baking and the asphalt threw it back in her face.
"I've never done drugs."
I'd almost forgotten Heero was still there. I shot him a glance and
turned back to my perusal. "Bully for you." I sucked in more smoke,
and blew it out. He was speaking again.
"There were two things I wanted to accomplish when we went to
school. One was to finish the program and sell it. Make money,
create more programs, make more money. That goal I've met." He
paused, and I couldn't help but look back at him.
"And the other?" I asked, more curious than I wanted to be.
He leaned forward, narrowing the small gap that'd grown between
us. "To kiss Duo Maxwell." I stared at him for a moment longer. Then
laughter like I hadn't felt in years burst out. I knew I was
attracting attention from the waiting crowd. I could feel the anger
and confusion coming from Heero. But I couldn't stop.
"That isn't a goal. That's a death wish," I gasped out, wiping under
an eye with the pad of a thumb. "Shit, Heero. You crazy or
For the first time, he seemed uncertain, not so sure of himself. He
looked away and shook his head in a short negative. "It had been a
goal for most of Sophomore year. And I would have pursued it
further, but then that stuff happened..." he trailed off and my good
"Yeah," was all I could manage. I rubbed the butt out against the
building behind me, no longer looking at Heero. He would bring that
up, even if obliquely. My life revolved around tragedy, I couldn't
help tripping over it. "So, what's the deal asking me if I turned
tricks? What kind of shit is that?"
He was shifting around again, his shirt rustled and the denim
scratched on the wall. For a moment, I thought he wasn't going to
answer. "I could take you away from this place you know. Set you up,
show you things, give you things. I've got the money."
"Fuck you," I told him without rancor. "This place is where I live.
Where my family is." I didn't want to fight him, I just wanted him
gone. I didn't like the memories he brought up. I didn't like the
opportunity he showcased.
His fingertips touched my shoulder. "Let me help you, Duo."
"I'm not a whore and don't plan to be one any time soon." Now I was
torn. If I went to join the crowd, would he follow? And if he
followed, would he continue?
"You wouldn't be one. You'd only be with me." His tone held more
inflection than it ever had today or in memory.
I glared at him. "I'd still be a whore, Heero. When you fuck in
exchange of goods, you're selling yourself."
"Then I'll give it to you, without sex if that's what it takes."
"I'm not fucking Cinderella. I don't need you acting like some
stupid knight on a white charger come to rescue..."
"It's a Nissan 350Z," he interrupted.
I blinked at him for a moment. "What is?"
"My steed. It's not a Charger, it's a Nissan 350Z." The fucker was
actually smiling. I couldn't help the smile in return.
"Your humor sucks."
"But my car rocks," he was still grinning.
The doors opened and the queue began to form. "Hey, nice talking to
you and all, but I gotta go." I shoved off the wall and stepped out
into the street. He was at my side. "What the fuck do you think
"I won't rescue you, but I'd still like to help." He wasn't looking
at me, but watched the crowd instead. I grunted in response and took
It hadn't always been like this. At least not when Hilde's mom was
alive. She had some money, and worked hard. It'd been her, Hil and I
for years. At least, until Neal came. I had to stop myself from
shaking my head. Some women just pick the losers. Hilde's father had
taken off on her weeks before Hil was born. My dad killed himself in
a fit of depression. And Neal smacked her around like she was his
personal punching bag.
The first time it happened, I'd been scared. Only eleven, I woke to
hear her screaming and then the slaps turning into punches. Hilde
and I yelled at the creep and he left, slamming the door behind him.
He didn't come back for a week. It'd become a pattern, Neal having a
rough day, stopping at the bar after work, and something real or
imagined would piss him off and his fists would fly. Hil and I would
beg her to kick him to the curb, turn him into the police, anything
to get him out of our lives. But she was a man's woman, and needed
him. By the time something was done about it, it was too late.
Hilde had been sick that day and stayed home. Neal had been laid off
at the factory and came home after a few rounds with others who'd
lost their jobs. Hilde's mom blamed herself. And while part of me
did too, I knew better. The son-of-a-bitch had passed out in her bed
after he'd punched her around a bit, raped her, sodomized her. Hilde
wasn't her mother by a long shot. She got a knife from the kitchen
and cut the fucker. Cut him where he wouldn't be able to get it up
again. He screamed so loud, the neighbor across the street called
the cops and he went to prison.
Two months later she was pregnant. At fourteen. Fuck, what a life.
Because of his inebriated state, his mental health, and suffering
already incurred, he'd been given a light sentence. Still, it was
more than a shock to learn he'd been released after serving two
I was fifteen when it happened. Hilde had a part time job
waitressing over lunch hour and her mom watched the twins. They were
barely a year old, asleep in Hilde's room and the bastard broke in.
Officially, she died from the gunshot wounds. Unofficially, it was
said she would have died from the beating he gave her. When the cops
finally came, they found him with the twins, one on each knee,
bouncing them a horsy ride. He'd told the cops he only wanted to see
his kids and the bitch wouldn't let him. He's still waiting on death
"Morning, Duo," the intake worker smiled at me. She was young and
new. It was still within her ideals to be perky, and know her
clients. "How have you been this month?"
She had nice teeth and smelled good. "Hey Suzette. Okay, I guess," I
answered, letting her see my card. "Been trying to get a job, but I
guess you can't help with that, can you?" She lost some of her smile
and shook her head. "Oh well, there's always three C's." I moved on
to pick up my box, not caring what Heero did. But since I had to
wait for Willie to shuffle her cart through the narrow walk space, I
did hear Suzette asking Heero the standard questions. Ones the
government needed to keep demographic data at their various
"Duo," she called out to me. I turned slowly, wondering what Heero
was up to now. "Heero is telling me he's lost his ID and will be
staying with you for a bit. Is what he saying true?"
I flashed Heero a look. He stared back without blinking. Slowly I
nodded. "He's lost it alright, and I guess he'll be staying for a
bit with me."
Suzette smiled with dimples and wrote out a card for Heero. After
stamping it, she handed it to him, reminding him to bring it back
when he returned. He nodded solemnly before moving to stand behind
me in line.
"Asshole," I whispered roughly without turning. The line moved, and
line workers began filling my box. A can of lard that's only good
for greasing squeaky lug nuts. A couple boxes of cereal. A large
container of peanut butter. Several cans of vegetables, a huge block
of cheese, a box of instant mashed potatoes, a sack of flour, and
powered milk mix. Tina snuck a small bag of candy into my box with a
wink and I gave her one back. Reggie had a thing for white boys, and
baked cookies before these give aways that he packed in special bags
for them. I noticed Heero got one too.
We stood on the sidewalk, lugging too heavy boxes to carry
comfortably and I looked at Heero. "You drive here?" I demanded. At
his nod, I grated out, "Then don't make a liar of me and drive me
home, stay for a bit and get the fuck out of my life." I was
suddenly pissed, and Heero made a good target.
He only nodded again and led the way.
I found out what a Nissan 350Z was. I guess if I had money, I'd get
one too. The trunk was too small for both the boxes, so I held mine.
The summer sun had come out brilliant and strong, and he'd tossed me
a pair of sunglasses from a console compartment, pulling on another
pair himself. As he powered away from the curb, he lowered the top
letting the wind whip around the edges of the windshield, tearing
words he might have said away. With the light traffic, he drove too
fast, squealing around corners only to brake suddenly at a stopped
vehicle in the way. Other than an amusement park ride I'd been on as
a kid, it was unlike anything else I'd ever experienced and it was
the most fun I'd had in months. His car was a different world and
when we stopped, I half expected to be down the rabbit hole. For the
moment, I could pretend to be somewhere else, be someone else.
Hilde came to the door when Heero parked in the drive, her face
pinched and worried, wondering what trouble I'd gotten into I'm
sure. I smiled and rolled my eyes from the car, reaching for the
door handle. Heero had jumped over his closed door and ran around to
let me out. I glared at him.
"Fuck off, Yuy. I don't need your help." Hilde was down the steps
eyeing the little blue thing. "You remember Heero from school, Hil?
I ran into him down at the center."
Heero nodded to her. "She was already out of school before I began."
I felt an instant wave of gratitude for his discretion. He'd moved
to the trunk and I jerked my head for Hilde to follow me back inside.
"Who is this guy?" she whispered, leaning into me.
After glancing over my shoulder to see if he was following, I
answered back in a lower whisper. "We used to have a couple of
classes together. He had a crush on me. Made some money on some
video game he created, and wanted to see what's up." I set my box
down on the counter and said louder, "He's not staying long."
"Oh." Hilde leaned against the counter-top with her arms crossed,
her look going between the two of us. "How'd you get two boxes, Duo?"
I stopped unpacking mine to see Heero still standing in the doorway
with his. I shrugged. "That's Heero's." I went back to putting
"I got this for you," he stated, offering it up.
"Great!" Hilde shot forward and took the box from him. "That means I
don't have to go today, and can hit the give away next week on
Filmore." She grinned and started to unpack his box. Heero stepped
up beside her to help.
He brought over the can of peanut butter, and held it out to
me. "How can you eat that?" his tone was fairly disgusted.
We locked gazes for a moment. "When you get hungry, you don't care
what you eat. Peanut butter sandwiches kept us from starving, once.
At least until the bread ran out." I slammed the cupboard door shut
with a little more force than necessary and turned away.
"Erm, if this is it, I'm going to bed," Hilde announced. A flush
lighted my face. She's already been up for at least nineteen hours,
working over twelve of them.
"Go to bed. I can finish putting the rest away." I even managed a
smile for her as she shuffled past in her slippers and uniform dress
from the coffee shop.
I felt a touch on my arm and glanced over at Heero. "I apologize. I
didn't mean anything by it. I didn't know."
"Doesn't matter. Hand me those boxes of cereal would you?" This guy
was going to be out of our lives in a few minutes, and nothing he
did or said would matter.
When we were finished, he stood awkward by the cheap dinette set. I
almost felt sorry for him. He was a nice guy, when he wasn't being
an asshole. "Would you like to go for a drive? Grab something to
I shook my head. Oh, yeah, I would like to, but there were things
that needed to be done and hanging out with Heero wasn't going to
get them there. "Can't. Have to do some laundry and clean stuff up
here. Then if there's time, I have to go look for a new job."
"You said something about that at the center." Heero moved
closer. "Let me get you a job, at least."
"Heero, damn it. Just when I think you're becoming an okay guy, you
have to go and be a jerk! Just stop with the rescuing thing, okay?"
He held my gaze for a moment before giving a short nod. "Good. It's
not so bad right now. Hilde's working extra hours, and I watch the
twins while she works. We make do. Food stamps and government
cheese. If I can hold my grades senior year, I have a scholarship in
the bag. If not," I shrugged. "I work for awhile. No big deal."
He fiddled with his keys in his pocket. "Could I see you again? I
mean, take you somewhere, be with you?"
I stared at him for a moment, his face showing me an honest open
expression for the first time that morning. My eyes slid from his
too earnest look to dart over the worn formica counter tops, the
colorless linoleum, the cheap table and chairs, the old miss-matched
appliances. "What do you want?" I asked almost uninterested.
"When I was fifteen, my dad left us. My mother had nothing, dad had
cleaned out all the accounts, sold all the assets. Mom had no jobs
skills; she only knew how to be a wife and mother. She sold all her
jewelry, anything of value just to pay what was owed. We moved to a
ratty little shit-hole off Fourth and New Deal." He kept his tone
low, dispassionate as though relaying the weather. I'd never known
much about Heero, even in school. He never offered anything personal
unless it concerned school.
"Before we left the old house, those I knew as friends wouldn't
speak to me. Those I knew as not friends, harassed me. After we
moved, I knew no one. I was taunted daily about the way I dressed,
about my speech, about being rich. And other than the teachers, only
one person had been friendly to me at that school."
His eyes bore into me and I couldn't look away. I remembered. I
knew. What had started out to get the new kid to at least look at
something else besides books had become an odd friendship. He rarely
spoke to me, but I did my upmost to be around him when I could.
Except for lunchtime. And never after school. There'd been too much
going on at home. Later, after all the shit went down, I didn't even
realize he was gone.
"I wanted to see you again. To see if you were that same person,"
his voice died out.
"Guess I failed that test," I cracked out and looked away.
"No, that's not true." He moved to stand next to me, his fingers
grazing my arm. "Those around you still gravitate to you. Those
people at the center, Hilde. You've had a lot of shit in your life,
but you still laugh. You still smile."
He was wearing some cologne, lightly spicy and expensive. His
fingers had stopped at my wrist and I suddenly thought of my dream
that morning. The mysterious porno king was standing before me. My
eyes flicked from his hand to his eyes. He continued to watch me. "A
kiss, huh?" A flash of surprise was gone in a moment and he nodded
slowly. "I can't let a guy go with a goal unfulfilled, can I?" I
murmured even as my eyes closed, even as I pushed forward reaching
Our lips touched briefly, hardly more than a breathe and I stepped
back. I almost didn't. I wanted more, but for all my talk, my dreams
of it being otherwise, I had just experienced my first kiss. Heero
swayed on his feet. He drew a thick shuddering breath and opened his
eyes. They were slightly glazed.
"Thank you," his voice a whisper.
I nodded. "Uh, I... I guess you could come back. If you wanted to."
Heero smiled. "Tonight? I'll bring pizza."
It took less than a second to decide. "Yeah, tonight would work.
Hilde's shift starts at six. The twins go to bed at seven-thirty and
then we could watch a movie or something."
At sometime in there, his hand had slipped into mine and he gave it
a squeeze. "I'll go now, but I'll be back tonight at five with pizza
and a movie."
I stood on the steps and watched him back out onto the street. He
waved from the road and I waved back. I thought of that night and
maybe another kiss. It wouldn't be in trade for dinner, it would be
for the boy himself. He could take his money and shove it. But if a
simple kiss could twist knots to my insides and give me a boner
harder than the most exciting porno dream, I wanted another.
Yeah, I think I could get used to having someone around like that.
A couple of after notes:
First, there's the matter of
Heero's carSee, while I know a bit about cars, I'm
not good at choosing the exact car for that person/setting. My
friend Alba is. She suggested this one, though her first thought was
a Porsche, it might have been too much for the Heero of this story.
Second, a little story about Government Cheese. Not sure if any of
you have ever been privileged to participate in government give
aways, or any type of free/assisted food type programs, so this
story is actually based off of my own experiences at the give aways.
We'd call them "Government Cheese" because you always got a block of
cheese. And no, it is not cheddar. It's an oddly flavored processed
American cheese - sort of like that cheese mix you get with mac-n-
cheese with fat and a bitter citrus peel taste. You could taste the
chemicals they put in it. It's primary use was to add to casseroles,
or disguise in something you don't taste the cheese in anyway. Now
things might be different from when I went through the program - it
has been years... twenty of them? The lard is actually marked lard,
and is like lumpy shortening. The peanut butter isn't as bad, but
not Skippy. It's more like a no name/store brand. And it's great for
making peanut butter cookies. The govn'mt workers in this story are
more or less a collection of ones I've come across in various
offices. Intake workers so squeaky new and idealistic. Others who'll
bend the rules a little for those they liked. And some who had
favorites, and would go the extra mile for.
Last, a "tweaker" as mentioned for the boy prostitute, is really a
crackhead. Someone mostly always high, working for the next high, or
coming down from one.
So, that's it. Hope you enjoyed!