The man with a song for everything who sings for no one but me.

Don't think sorry's easily said
Don't try turning tables instead
You've taken lots of chances before
But I ain't gonna give any more
Don't ask me
That's how it goes
'Cause part of me knows what you're thinking

Especially if it's progressive rock, and distantly related to Pink Floyd, or so I was educated after his acoustic arrangement of the song, sung as I washed my hands at the sink in the half bath just off the side door where you enter from the driveway. I was marched there in tears after being caught in the garage lying on the floor trying to sort out guilt, obligation, and rage.

Sort it out with me, Lochlan tells me.

You won't let me. I tell him.

Right. Don't sort it out. Leave it be.

I can't leave this be!

Do it anyway! He yells in my face and we burst into fresh sets of tears for each other to admire and regret.