My best friend is gone. Again. Third time in one year and the last time, she was barely here for three weeks before she went home.

[It's the in and the out that kills Angela the most, but that doesn't need to be said when it's already implied. Instead, she nods a thank you for the beer and takes a swig.]

I want her to be happy and she's better off at home, but I want her here with me. Selfish, I know, but it's the truth and it's something I can't get over wanting no matter how many times she leaves.

[It's saying something that it comes out so easily to a man who still is a stranger to her in many way. Maybe that makes it easier for her.]