Every time we say goodbye, I die a little
Every time we say goodbye, I wonder why a little
Why the Gods above me, who must be in the know
Think so little to me, they allow you to go 
- Cole Porter, "Everytime We Say Goodbye"

It's Sunday morning, again. Still dark outside, and here, too. I will not look for where the sun will soon rise, do not care for that sliver of light heralding dawn. No, none of that for me.

Ella is crooning in the background, and Neil, singing along with her.

What sad thoughts fill the mind.