This one didn’t get made—it escaped. chasing ghosts of 80s guitar riffs and lost sax solos… and suddenly, she showed up: A breathy voice in the dark. A lyric that cut like glass: “Live without you? Honey, I already did.” I didn’t write it. I just pressed record before it vanished. Saxophone? Had to be real—even if it’s not. Guitar? One riff, one take, one lifetime of wanting to walk away first. Drop? Not happy. Not sad. Cathartic. Physical. Unstoppable.