Nick flipped the pages of the calendar swiftly, like the pictures were up and going to animate before his eyes, and that was how it felt sometimes, time. Spring then summer then fall then winter then spring again and a whole year had gone by and it was like he'd hardly had time to blink.

Of course he had, he'd done things and gone places and there was miles of footage to prove it and he just had to wonder when, when had he done this when time wasn't giving him any breaks? Spring and he was waiting and the guys would be here any moment, all of them.

A solo album and a solo career and solo appearances and a year had passed and here he was back where he started, back in a room with plastic chairs and a television set and a table and they were going to meet and do it all over again. He had his year and where had it gone, anyway?

It wasn't enough, not long enough, there were still things to do and people to see and Nick wanted all of it, wanted time to do all of it. There wasn't enough time in the world for that and he knew it but he wanted. He wanted.

But he was here, and he'd made a promise, and this was good too, this other life of his, this other thing that made his blood race and his heart swell. Maybe not so much, and maybe in a different way, but this was good too. But for more than a year, he wanted more than a year, not just days that would flip by so fast he would lose track.

He wanted to do the things he loved forever.