Maud Pie keeps her burdens under wraps. A gloomy bus ride sits her still as a statue, waiting for stop number twelve. But when a familiar face prances aboard, her facade cracks.
Routine day with a dirt cheap brush, then a week goes by and it goes untouched. Then two, then three, then a month, and the rest of your life you beat yourself up. - Aesop Rock, "Rings"