The letter's waiting on the table in the foyer when I walk into the house. I don't need to read it to know what it says. I knew when I woke up this morning and strapped on the vest and my gun that she wasn't gonna be home when I walked in the door. She's been leaving me for a long time now; guess it just took longer than we both realized to let it go. I kinda feel like that poor guy in that old Eagles song, you know, the one she was lyin' to, and I can't help thinkin' that maybe that song fits too damn well. 'Cos I know Stella. She'll be looking for something greener before too long, and tryin' to pretend it makes her happy. An' I'm probably gonna be that loser who'll be waitin' for her to come home, knowin' she ain't comin' back no matter what. I can't trust her, not that way, knowin' she'll leave me again, and I hate myself for wanting her anyway.