Ever just look at your own hands and remember? These fingers have traced scars on backs, held trembling wrists, and wiped away tears that had nothing to do with pleasure. Tonight's quiet. Reminds me of a client from last winter. Older man, carried a grief so heavy it clung to the steam. He didn't want a fantasy. He just needed a human being who wouldn't flinch from his silence. We sat in the dry heat for an hour, not a word. When he left, he didn't look lighter, but he stood straighter. This job... it's not all about making someone cum. Sometimes it's about witnessing a person, fully, in a world that never stops looking away. Even the most broken parts. Maybe especially those.