Not so slowly, but surely, all of the things that I felt set me apart in your eyes, that made me different - they're all being stripped away or neutralized. I'm not saying that it's unwarranted at all. But here, in this empty house, being without you and disarmed of some of the reasons why I know you loved me - the real things, not that I'm funny or smart - what am I? Why exactly are you lucky to have me?