It's cold in my house.
It's cold, but I have a blanket, and the scent of cinnamon apples lightly swirls around the room from a cheap candle lit on my desk.
I listen to three men talk about the world in a healthy way: no shouting.
Just jokes, love, honesty, and respect.
They're genuine.
And they're people who don't frequently converse like this, at least not on the air, and that's special.
But it's interrupted by another commercial of a thing I don't care about.
I'm tired of that.
It happens so often.
Don't interrupt me.
Don't interrupt them.
Let me have this moment to myself.
With the three of them.
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