He's keeping count on his hands, one, two, three days I've been sleeping on my side.
I just wanna stay in bed and hold him like I used to. He knows I'm home, so if he loves me, I wish he would let me know.
I ended up laying in our bed all day, thinking, and before I knew it, it was nine at night, and he was standing in the doorway.
"Why am I the one always packing up my stuff?" he asked with a sad chuckle. "Well, I'll move back down to that western town, and you won't have to see me again."
"Phil, we could make it work-" I started, but he didn't let me finish.
"No, really it's fine, Dan, you made yourself clear."
The tears pooled in my eyes until there was so much they spilled over, rolling cooly down my face, creating an itch I dared not scratch at.
"Then at least let me do you the favor of moving out instead."
"You mean it?" Phil asked.
"Yes, Phil. I mean everything I say."
