I built a workbench out of the silence

It sounds strange to say out loud, but that's what it is. I cleared out the corner of the garage where I'd been stacking boxes of old gear and built a proper bench — oak top, legs I cut myself, nothing fancy. The whole time I was working I kept thinking about the guys who aren't here to see it, and instead of that being a weight, it was just... company. Grief's becoming a workshop. Same spoon, same silence, but I can shape it now instead of it shaping me.