Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] Hey Birdie. Officially on I-25 and on my way out of Wyoming. I doubt the whole state is a dead zone, but…I don’t know, I guess I’m getting a little superstitious. I’m sorry I was MIA for so long. I thought…I don’t know, I thought it would be good for me, to get out of the car and sleep under the stars, spend some time in nature. And it was nice, it was, but I still— [click, static] Well, I miss you, I guess. You know, even though I was still hiking back to the car most every day to broadcast. Not that you heard any of it, it seems, um, I don’t know, I still, I missed— [click, static] Talking to yourself when you don’t have a PTT to your face and you’re looking over a beautiful placid lake is not quite the same as talking to yourself when there’s the possibility that someone might talk back. It got me wondering what Harry is— [click, static] You know, it’s funny. I haven’t thought about Harry in…god, I mean, how long was I out camping? In that long. And how refreshing that was. I do wonder how she’s getting along. Not that I ultimately care all that much for her happiness, but I don’t want her to die or anything, mainly because she is the one other person who I can confirm is alive and present on this godforsaken planet. [click, static] I don’t want you to think badly of me Birdie—I’m not…I’m not heartless. I’m not callous. I— [click, long static] I’m a liar. I did think about her when I was out in the woods. I don’t know why I’m lying about it like you’re somehow going to judge me for thinking about her. Why would you? Better question—why wouldn’t I think about her? She’s been the only person I’ve had contact with the last six years and she’s… [click, static] Well, whether I like it or not, she’s been a staple in my life. You know, made important simply by being the last one standing. So it isn’t that I wasn’t thinking of her—or that I didn’t think of her. I haven’t been talking about her much lately, but that doesn’t mean— [click, static] I’m not sure how to describe it. There were moments out there, in the wilderness, where it was so…peaceful that I… I didn’t forget about her. I forgot about…everything. I forgot about Harry, I forgot about the world being empty, I forgot about what we did six years ago, I forgot about me. Or—I don’t know if forget is even the right way to describe it. How can you forget something that never was? That’s what it felt like. Like nothing that existed in my life, including my life, ever existed at all. That I was just some kind of energy, existing in the great outdoors, with no past, no history. Something that leaves no mark on the world. Just…part of it. Seamlessly, effortlessly part of it. The moments were brief, but they were beautiful. The sweet oblivion of never having been real. [click, static]