You know there's something missing.

Don't find nothing
No more coincidences

Pretty baby
Look in his eyes and you will see
Things will happen
But only if they're meant to be

Lochlan's going to roll his eyes. He's not a bad boy, he would never understand.

In the brief interim between when Loch broke up with me and I fell for Cole, I had a crush on Charlie Sexton. This one. (Please remember, this was 1985. Not the recent Arc Angels-version Charlie.)

He was such a bad boy. A loner with earrings, cigarettes, a leather jacket and a chip on his shoulder five miles wide. A guitar.

But this post isn't about Charlie. Despite how under-appreciated he is.

When I walked into work this morning, Caleb's new habit seems to be to cross to me, put his hand on the small of my back, lean in and kiss my temple, and then he'll ask me how I am and what I'd like to listen to today. This morning I said Charlie Sexton. He laughed.

I haven't heard that name for years.

Eighty-five.

You would have been fourteen?

Yes.

I see. When you and Cole got together.

Thereabouts.

No Jacob music today?

Fuck you, Caleb.

My apologies. It was uncalled for.

No, it's fine.

We get along very well, as you can see. This week I've gone from bitterly confident to miserably convinced that I shouldn't be working for him. Maybe the other guys are just wearing me down. Maybe old habits die hard and bad habits are hard to break, and please pick a proverb on my behalf and I'll take my blame and go home. Don't get me wrong, Caleb has been nothing but a gentleman (alright, almost) and as bosses go I think he would be so far among the very best kind to have, but I'm growing rawer as the week goes on.

Ben and Seth have gone to the farm and as per usual, when Bridget is out of sight she is out of mind. Ben has terrific focus. To the point where he forgets about me and everyone else is left to try and fill in around the edges of my issues with epic imaginary loneliness. Which can't be quieted and so instead I'm left to defend myself against a relentless onslaught of negativity about my new job and my boss and just about everything else I do. Or sometimes so it seems.

I need a hug. Probably be a while before I get one again.

Beat's so lonely indeed, Charlie.