Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] Hey Harry? Where are you? [click, static] You could have at least left a note. Something to let me know that you’re okay, that you’re not de— [click, static] What happened? When did you leave? Maybe if it was June, I’d be able to look at your garden and figure out just how long its been since you last tended to it, but you’d only just be putting new seeds in the ground now and I’m not going to go digging up your garden if you’re just out at the store.  That’s…that must be it. You ran out of canned goods and you had to go looking for more. And I bet you’ve had to go a bit of a ways away considering we’ve cleaned out everything in a thirty mile radius.  Right, so…I’m not going to freak out. Yet. I only got here twenty minutes ago, I’m sure it’ll be… It’s strange, being back. Everything looks pretty much the same—though I did notice the back door has come loose at the top hinge again. You know, I’m sure that’s something you could figure out how to fix on your own. It’s not hard. (sigh) But I guess I’ll go ahead and fix it again. I might as well, I’m here.  I didn’t expect the smell of this place to hit me so hard. When you’re in a space so long, you stop noticing the sensory aspects of it—the smells, the sounds, the way the light shifts throughout the day, throughout the seasons. All things I didn’t know to miss. But now that I’m confronted with them again, I realize just how much… Lavender and chamomile, with an underlying layer of turpentine. That’s the smell. Harry got into making her own soap a few years ago. Anytime I happened to get a whiff of one of those flowers on the road, I’d— It’s different. In context, it’s different. Knowing the origin ot… Despite everything, despite all the shit you’ve done and my own foolish fucking heart, I think I— Yeah, I’m looking forward to seeing you, Harry. At the very least, I’m looking forward to seeing the look of complete surprise on your face when you walk through the front door and see me.  [click, static] [click, static] Hey Harry? Where are you? [click, static] You could have at least left a note. Something to let me know that you’re okay, that you’re not de— [click, static] What happened? When did you leave? Maybe if it was June, I’d be able to look at your garden and figure out just how long its been since you last tended to it, but you’d only just be putting new seeds in the ground now and I’m not going to go digging up your garden if you’re just out at the store.  That’s…that must be it. You ran out of canned goods and you had to go looking for more. And I bet you’ve had to go a bit of a ways away considering we’ve cleaned out everything in a thirty mile radius.  Right, so…I’m not going to freak out. Yet. I only got here twenty minutes ago, I’m sure it’ll be… It’s strange, being back. Everything looks pretty much the same—though I did notice the back door has come loose at the top hinge again. You know, I’m sure that’s something you could figure out how to fix on your own. It’s not hard. (sigh) But I guess I’ll go ahead and fix it again. I might as well, I’m here.  I didn’t expect the smell of this place to hit me so hard. When you’re in a space so long, you stop noticing the sensory aspects of it—the smells, the sounds, the way the light shifts throughout the day, throughout the seasons. All things I didn’t know to miss. But now that I’m confronted with them again, I realize just how much… Lavender and chamomile, with an underlying layer of turpentine. That’s the smell. Harry got into making her own soap a few years ago. Anytime I happened to get a whiff of one of those flowers on the road, I’d— It’s differe