"No." Sniff.
"Yes, you are," she said.
"Am not." Snuffle.
She leaned over on the sofa and gave me a tight hug. "It's nice to know you've got some fuzziness in there someplace, bonehead."
On the TV screen in front of us, Bill Murray continued to karaoke along to More Than This, half drunk, in the middle of an epiphany, and singing for me.
