Stability

Time for the final bout. Rows of deserted houses: all our stable mates are highway bound. Give us our measly sum: getting the air inside my lungs is heavenly. We're starting out with nothing but crippling doubt. We'll rest easy (justified). I've suffered a swift defeat, I'll endure countless repeats. The gift of memory is an awful curse. With age it just gets much worse, but I won't mind.