So they're showing the house tomorrow. Though I'd never be a landlord, I think I'd be more sour with an out-of-town renter who only got two months out of a six-month lease before buckling. With the house in the paper already and it soon being shown to future sleepers in my room, it finally feels like a reality: I have to move out. Just as there was a piece of me that hoped you'd argue with the decision to move, there's one that's been holding out that there'd be some god-in-the-machine plot twist that would have you moving in just in the nick of time. There'd be some sort of "we can do it together" moment with a freeze frame at the end with us hugging while the credits roll. I'm not holding out for it though.