At first you drink a little too much only on Fridays. Then on Tuesdays as well. Then you tell yourself it is not really drink, it is just to bring the tension down. To quiet the head. To get the day’s claws out of you. Every person finds his own way to come apart. One grows silent. Another works even more. Another starts speaking only through irony. Another becomes heavy in his own house, carrying work in his clothes, in his temper, in the way he sets a glass down in the sink. Not violent in the cinematic sense. More slyly. Like walking into the house together with dust from a worksite and slowly covering whatever was once tender.