"How long do you think I'll last?"
He looks at me and I look at him.
He tries to keep any sign of emotion out of his face.
I can read his eyes though.
"Two days, tops."
That's his guess.
I don't tell him that
I think he's being generous.
Youngest son is moving out later on this week.
The pugaboos sleep in his bed.
Dearest one thinks they should sleep in ours
once we are empty nesters.
I've been saying things along the lines of over my dead body.
They slept in our bed last night.
They kept this dead body warm.