He lies there all day, waiting for me to finish. Without complaint, or comment, or suggestion, or critique. He’s there for the curses. He’s there for the sighs. He’s there for the lows. And he’s there for the … there are rarely highs. Let’s just say he’s there for all the moments, both bad and better. If only he could speak. What a story he’d tell.


Beamer: A man’s best writing buddy

With a little help from my friend

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