Baby It's Cold Outside

Waking up to room service trays banging against the door frame. Toni likes to order food over the phone and watch it shrink in the air-conditioning. There's a tropical storm warning screaming and streaming at the bottom of the screen. Me and Emerz are like, no kidding. We've taken to betting on Toni's next mood swing. I got five on manic, Emerz is going with his gut and saying depressive. No matter who wins, we all lose. Laying on the bed with her robe split open, I take a look at what I used to be so jealous of, and feel nothing but a pang of pity, drowning in irritation. "There's something to be said for a little mystery, babe," says Emerz, who has already solved the riddle.