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Our room is a frigid wasteland. Harry has given up trying to talk to me. I don’t blame him. I’m an iceberg in tropical waters, unable to melt. On stage you’d never know anything was wrong, we smile, we perform, we party. Then the switch flips, and it’s arctic. Just as well we’ve only got another couple of days before we can go back to our own lives.
I’m broken.
We’re broken.
Our relationship is a rusty wreck, abandoned and sinking at sea. Nothing is going to mend this.
