All language subtitles for SurrealEstate S02E06 US

- August Ripley.
- Rochelle Decker.

- I get these things.

I can’t hear them
anymore, I can’t see them.

But I know them.

- You know, I always
liked you, Zooey.

She’s one of us.

- One of us. One of us.

- I heard about the
day you left the church.

- The organization
wasn’t meeting my needs.

Dear Luke, please consider this

my resignation from
the Roman Agency.

Effective immediately.

Susan Ireland.

- Hasan!

Mina, Tarik,

I can’t give you a
guaranteed sale date or price.

Nobody can. The market
is a living, breathing thing.

- So, what was that number
you gave us five minutes ago?

- That is a listing price
that I think will put us

in a very positive
position. I suspect we’ll get

several offers above that,
but, well, wait and see.

So,

is there anything else
that I need to know?

- Mmm. No.
- Mmm. No. Nothing. No.

- No, I-I-I don’t...
- Sounds great.

- I don’t think so, no.

- These older
houses often have, uh,

features and quirks
that could impact

the potential sales
price and days on market.

Now, if this is the case,

we are very good at
managing these things,

but now is the time to tell us.

- Did you tell him about
the antichrist next door?

- Daria.
- He needs to know.

- The Masseys.

- Our neighbors from hell.

- Unreasonable
neighbors aren’t that...

unusual.

- Unreasonable?

They’ve been a problem
since we moved in.

- We’ve tried to
be good neighbors.

Ask anyone else on the block.

- But with the Masseys?
- If they find out we’re selling,

they’ll try to sabotage us.

- Badmouth us.
Scare away the buyers.

- Who wants to live next
to murderous psychopaths?

- We generally try and
keep those bullet points

out of the marketing materials.

- What can we do?

- Well, generally, I like
to head off the problem

by reaching out
first; create goodwill.

- Goodwill? Good luck.

- You’d be surprised what a
properly deployed muffin basket

can achieve. Now,
are you done with this?

Nice landscaping.

Least they keep the property up.

- That’s what they always
say about axe murderers:

"Gee, what a surprise.

They took such good
care of their yard."

- Hm.

- Hey!

- Nice greenery.

- Aren’t they?

- So, should be an
easy one. A normie.

- Hm. Just like Susan suggested.

- We’ve always
welcomed every client,

regardless of their degree
of metaphysical engagement,

so the Hasans should
be pretty simple.

Open, show, closing.

But their neighbors have
got them really spooked.

- Perhaps it’s
just bad chemistry.

- Maybe, but, Phil, when you
do the HCP at the Hasan house...

- I’ll check the
Massey place, too.

- Maybe they’re just too alike?

I mean, suburbia rots
everyone’s brain sooner or later.

- The Hasans have
lived there for eight years.

They never had problems
with anyone else, or so they say.

August, I want you in
there sooner than later.

Hasans don’t seem like the
type to make this up, but...

- There was a fascinating
study done on Norwegian rats

living in close proximity...

- Tarik? We were
just talking about you.

What?

- Okay...

you’re gonna have
to believe us now.

- I can’t believe a
normal person would...

- Go all Ozzy Osbourne and
then drop it on our doorstep?

I told you, these
people are sick.

- I can’t take this anymore.

You don’t have to.

- Tarik, this
really isn’t the time

to get into an altercation
with these people.

Massey!

Massey, you
cowardly pile of puke!

Come out and face me! Massey!

And don’t just send out
your freakishly tall wife

to fight your battles!
I want a piece of you!

Man, dial it down a little.

- What’d you say about my wife?

- I don’t think that
he meant anything.

- She’s tall! Freakishly tall!

Abnormally tall!

- You take that back.
- Or what?

You gonna unleash
Slenderwoman on me?

- I’m gonna do some
unleashing, all right.

What kind of a sicko

rips the head off a bird and
puts it on someone’s porch?

- The kind of sicko
who’s tired of getting

a midnight suntan, that’s who!

- My porch light, my rules!
- Tariq, put down the rock.

- My dog! Your
ass! How about that?

- Mr. Massey, put down the dog.
- Whoa-ho-ho.

And a shadow covers the land
as the 50-foot woman attacks.

- Eat a heaping
bowl of shit, Hasan!

- You bird dismemberer!

- You’re insane!
- You’re a sociopath!

- You’re neighbors!
- Come get your bird, Massey.

- Okay. Go get ’em, Buttercup!

- Go on!
- No!

- Hope he saved me a drumstick.

- Hm.

The irony is I’m only five-nine.

In heels.

- You always had
this kind of, um...

tension between you?

- Tension? They made our lives

a living hell ever
since we moved in.

- Thought you were here first?
- Oh!

- Look. Look at
the things they do.

- It’s a little hard
to make out.

- Yeah, that’s because
of their goddam porchlight.

Thing’s gotta be like
a 100 jillion lumens.

It shines right into
our bedroom all night.

- Well, did you talk
to them about it?

- Yeah. They suggested
something involving a place

where the sun doesn’t
shine. It was hurtful.

- Yeah, that’s not
even the worst of it.

Here, look at this.

- Does that say...?
- Yeah!

- The ’f word’.
- Son of a bitch

snuck onto our property at
night and wrote it in huge letters

with a fertilizer spreader
on our front lawn.

- We had to mow every few
days to keep it from growing taller

and corrupting young people.

- Well, you did pin a note
to their door with a knife.

Have you seen their hedges?

They look like the
lead singer from...

- What’s the name of that band?
- The Melvins.

- The Melvins! And
they refuse to trim ’em!

You know how something like
that can affect property values!

Okay.

Look, you seem okay
for a real estate guy.

And if you sell the house,
we’ll be glad to see them go.

But... there’s no goddamn way

that we are gonna
help them do anything.

- You mark my words:

If we ever turn up dead
and headless, bleeding out

on the porch like that poor
bird Buttercup got hold of,

you’ll know the Hasans did it.

- Well,

meanwhile, enjoy the muffins.

Quitting? Already?

Well, you’ve only
been a real estate agent

for a few days.

You closed the Dunn-Herberts
when no one else could.

- Yeah. And then I went home
and took a 45-minute shower

to wash off the filmy
residue of capitalism.

- It’s called growing up.

- No, this was
called selling out.

And I just don’t think
that it’s right for me.

But I also don’t want
to let Luke down either.

- It’s fine to wander
when you’re young.

Noble, even.

But one must
eventually choose a path

and follow it to the end

because old wanderers
lack direction, purpose.

And they often pee outdoors.

- Ew.

Hi. May I help you?

- Oh, I’m-I’m
looking for Phil Orley.

May I say who is here?

Philly can’t possibly be

important enough to
merit this level of screening.

Oh, Philly.

- Hey, Philly. Que pasa?

Abby!

Wh-what are you doing
here? Is everything okay?

- Everything’s fine.
I was just about to

submit a blood sample
to your secretary here.

It’s not too late.

- This is Zooey,
our newest agent.

Zooey, my big sister, Abby.

- Charmed.
- Mm.

- Okay, come on.

So, Abs, not that this
isn’t a treat, but what’s up?

- I was in town and wondered

if you and Anthony
were free for dinner.

- In town for what?

- To take you and
Anthony for dinner.

I was taking care
of some paperwork

from mom and dad’s
estate... you’re welcome...

and thought what a
great excuse to visit

my third-favorite
little brother.

Play your cards right and that

second-favorite slot
might even open up.

- Okay, well, I’ll have to check
with Anthony. He’s really busy...

- How ’bout that place we
all went to last Christmas?

- Fremonts?
- Fremonts. Tomorrow night? 7:00?

- Abby, I’ve got a ton of work
on my plate right now. I don’t...

- I know you’re so
busy and important.

Let’s make it 7:30.

Give this a quick look.
We’ll talk at dinner.

Bye.

- My big sister,
ladies and gentlemen.

- Yeah, I’m not sure I like her.
- Oh, me neither.

- Luke wanted you
to call him, by the way.

- Okay.

- Philly.

- I hate to say it, but
the records look clean.

Property line has stayed the
same since it was farmland.

- Well, how long
have they been there?

- That’s gonna
take a deeper dive.

Farm bureau records,
folklore, anecdotals...

- Well, these houses
have been here a while.

See if you can track
down who lived here before.

- I love a challenge.
- Hm.

- Good news is it’s a great
house at a reasonable price point.

The buyers should be lined up.

- I think we know
the bad news already.

They live next door.

- Honestly, I have to tell you,

I spoke with them
and they were...

- Don’t say it!
- Reasonable. Even nice.

- You were here!

Did you not see
the decapitated bird?

- They told me
their dog did that.

- And you believed them?

- Honestly, I don’t
know who to believe.

You did some kind of
extreme stuff to them, too.

- He showed you the lawn.

- You’re not exactly
innocents here.

- Then maybe we need
to find new representation.

- Mm-hm.
- You’d fire us?

Wow, that is wildly
unprecedented

and certainly your
prerogative, but my solution

would be to sell your
house as quickly as possible

for the most amount
of money possible

and put some space
between you and the Masseys

before you develop
a nuclear program.

- We have that block
party coming up.

A lot of people come to that.

- Great! Everybody
loves a block party.

Gives people a real chance to
get a feel for the neighborhood,

see how well
everybody gets along.

- If it’ll get us
out of here faster,

we’ll fake it.

- That is all I want to hear!

Look, you don’t
need to love them.

Just don’t attack
them for a while.

- We’ll try.

- And maybe turn
off that porch light

that burns like a thousand suns?

- We’ll see.

- There you go.
Peace in our time.

Your greatest
advantage is that you live

in a highly desirable
neighborhood

and no other inventory
is available here.

You get to set the market and...

- This means war.

I really appreciate you
coming in, Mr. Flynn.

- Oh, my office is
just around the corner.

- Great. So, you used to live
at 4 Sotherfield Lane, right?

Next door to Rowan
and Renata Massey?

Ohh... They were the worst.

- How so?
- Arguments.

Noisy. Nasty.

All the time... endless.

- About what?

- You know, neighbor stuff.

- Anything specific?

- They killed my cat!

- Excuse me?

- They put out a bowl of
antifreeze and poisoned my cat!

- That’s dark.
- Weird.

I forgot it until just now.

- Hey.
- Yeah?

You work for Rita.

- I’m her assistant.

- Hm.

Hey! You never mentioned
you were thinking about selling.

- Oh, we been thinking
about it for a while.

You know, we got the nicer house

and we’re empirically
better people,

so why let them set the market?

- Luke! So nice to see you.

I’m afraid this house is a...

tiny bit out of
your price range,

but maybe we can help you find
a nice haunted amusement park,

or something.

- Can I have a word?
- Hm.

- Look who’s over there.

- Listen, Rita, there
is something going on

between these neighbors.

- A little friction
between neighbors?

Happens all the time.

You piece of crap!

You had to horn
in on our actions!

- We have every right to
expose it to the open market,

- just the same as you!
- Swear to God, you better not...

- That cow meant everything to
us and you took her for your own!

- The cow wandered
onto our land!

- You were trying to claim him!

- whole crop of sorghum!

We will have nothing
for the rest of the season.

- Don’t dare tell me what to do!
- I’ll bite them off your hand!

- Tarik!
- I’ve had enough of you, buddy!

- Tarik!

Remember what we talked about?

Back in the house.

- This isn’t over! Swear to God!
- No, it’s not over,

because you’re not
lying in a pool of blood!

- Hey!
- Not yet! Not yet!

- No, come on!

- So, a little
friction, you say?

- Did you hear what they
were screaming about?

- Uh, I dunno.
Something about a cow?

- Hey. I got your text.
I’m working tonight so...

- You are not
gonna believe this.

- It’s Abigail. I might.

- This is an affidavit of
posthumous variation,

which is a precursor to
post-probate allocation,

- which means...
- Whoa, whoa, whoa!

Start at the beginning.

- My parents were super
involved in our parish church,

my whole life. You know this.

So they always told
us, "When we’re gone,

everything’s split
between you kids except for

this one piece of land.
That’s for the church."

- Like, to build
a church, or...?

- Who cares? It’s a couple
acres of dirt and weeds

that I don’t think
Jesus could find

without the GPS coordinates.

- And yet?
- And yet,

when my mom passed
it never came up.

I just assumed that it
was specified in the will

and then handed over.

Apparently not.

It’s gone to us kids with
the rest of the estate.

- So, it’s ours now?

Our summer place
to graze the ponies

and let the corgis run free?

- Abigail says that we should
donate it to the church now.

That’s what these forms are for.

See, you know,

that’s what kills
me about Abigail!

She doesn’t have the
decency to forge my name

and do this deal quietly. No!

She has to ambush me and-and-and

knowing perfectly well
that, given enough time,

not only am I going
to say no, but hell, no.

- Your relationship with
your sister is... complicated.

- She was always the
favorite, the-the good one.

It took a big gesture of me
becoming a priest to pull ahead.

- Sort of a Hail Mary.

Do you want to keep the land?

- No. I mean...

What-what would we do with it?

That’s not-that’s
not the point! The...

The point is... she’s asking me.

Me!

To give something that...
with a not-insignificant

dollar value to the church.

The same church
that chose to model

the tolerant ministry of Christ
by tossing me out the narthex!

I’m not good enough, but
my inheritance is? No! No.

- Okay, great, simple.

- Simple?
- Just tell Abby

what you just told me.

- Yes.

No.

- Hell, no.

- Hell, no.

- Now that is marketing.

- Oh, yeah. Kids at
a grade-school rager

are known for
their brand loyalty.

- I’m going to mingle.

- Hey.

I’m Alvin.

I- I work for Rita Weiss.

- Oh. Thoughts
and prayers, Alvin.

You’re with Roman, right?

- Mm-hm.
- What’s that like?

- It’s okay. Most of the time.

- I ask because I hear things.

- What kind of things?

- Like,

you made a pact with the devil
that so you could move people

into different houses so
that he could eat their souls.

Oh...

Yeah, yeah. I can confirm that.

Oh!

- You had me there.
- Did I?

- Well, I better get
back. Gotta make sure

nobody gets in there with,
you know, sharp objects.

We’ll lose the deposit.
Yeah-ha. Yeah.

Thank you for your service.

- Wish you’d
thought of it, right?

- Yeah! The next pre-qualified
toddlers to come by are yours.

Listen, we talked to some
of the people who lived

in these houses before
the Hasans and Masseys.

- And?
- Let’s just say

there’s a history of violence.

We need to close these places
before they murder each other.

This is a great idea.

There you go.

- Hi.
- Oh!

Here we go!

- Oops.
- Oh!

Oh!

Tariq! Rowan!

- Ah!

Ahh!

No.

Ahh!

- Ah, ah!

Stay!

- Hey, are you okay?
- I am.

But this is getting
out of control.

- Well, this is a mess.

Where’s that useless
assistant of mine?

- Oh, no, no, no, no.

Alvin bounced.

- Well, guess who’s picking
up her own dry cleaning

for the rest of the week.

- He got knifed, Rita...

and you don’t even care!

- This has gone too far.

- Oh, relax. Nobody’s
pressing any charges.

A stitch here, a
tetanus shot there.

- No, we are gonna
get on top of this thing.

I’m gonna do a deep
dive into the Hasans

and I need your go ahead to
do the same at the Masseys.

- Your people in my listing?

- We’re never going
to sell these places

until we settle this.

From a pure greed perspective,
can’t see how you can refuse.

- Well, when you
put it that way.

- No area in the home
is particularly active?

- I mean, it’s mostly
around that side,

closest to them.

- Any odd sounds at night?

- No. Well, rats.

- Rats?
- The Masseys throw dinner scraps

into our yard
almost every night.

That brought raccoons.
And then the rats came.

- That’s despicable.

- It was his first
gig as altar boy.

- Mm.
- And the cassock was

a little too long.

- Oh.
- Ethan tripped.

- Mm.
- Whoow!

Body of Christ
all over the place.

He was devastated.

He was so worried Jesus
would be mad at him.

- I know that feeling.

- Oh, he reminds me so
much of you at that age.

So innocent.

Mm.

Ruggedly handsome,
just like his uncle.

Yeah.

- He’s a good boy.
- Yeah.

- Obeys his parents.

- And so we segue gracefully
into the business of the day.

- You knew mom wanted to
give that land to the church.

- How could I not?

Every festive dinner over
the last four years of her life

included a dry run of
mother’s post-mortem wish list.

- And she wondered why
the desserts weren’t moving.

- But here’s the thing, Abs...

back then it was...

it was abstract.

- And back then
you were a priest.

- Yeah.

O- okay, sure, but...

Now? Now it’s real.

- And now you’re a gay
guy who sells real estate.

- Yeah, and I feel pretty
good about both, if it matters.

- Yeah, it matters. Of
course it matters a lot.

But while your world has turned,

like, a thousand
times, Mom’s hasn’t.

- Dying will do
that to a person.

- It’s a shitty two
acres of nothing.

Why do you even care?

- I care because
you made it personal.

Before it was something
that just happened, like...

February, or rickets,
or the playoffs

and all I could say was,
"Well, that happened."

But now you’re
making me sign off on it.

Endorse it. And
it pisses me off!

- Do you have any idea
how much you hurt her...

- Oh.
- When you left the church?

Every time one of her
friends asked about

her son, the priest...
she had to correct them.

- Yeah. She didn’t have to.
- Yes she did. Phil...

Come on! You knew mom.

She did...

and her heart broke.

- Yeah.

I know that feeling, too.

- Mm-hm, mm-hm,
mm-hm, mm-hm, mm-hm.

You know what? Let’s just try it
back over by the shelves again.

- You know, I find
myself envying Alvin

and his reliable morphine drip.

- Ooh, you’re a smart one.

- Yeah, I’m a genius.

- Oh, no, no, no, no, no.

You recognize the
ultimate futility of it all.

The trick is to identify
what we can change

and what we can’t. We
can move a coffee table.

We can’t force a lender

to prequalify a buyer
with insufficient income.

Not legally, anyway.

- Okay, you’re starting
to scare me a little.

- That’s real estate, kitten.

Oh, Renata! Hi!

- Hi. Are you
Alvin’s replacement?

- God, I hope not.
- Uh, Zooey’s, um...

a special consultant here
to evaluate the property.

- Yeah, I saw your
R-rated lawn outside.

- God, the Hasans
make it so difficult.

See here!

Double-glazed windows.

The Hasans play their
music from midnight to six AM.

They even put subwoofers on
the ground to shake the walls.

- They’re evil people.
- What kind of music?

- Show tunes; ’80s TV themes;

Hall. And. Oates.

- Monsters.

- Two o’clock in the morning
and I need to be reminded

that my kiss is on their list?

- Why do we even have prisons?

- Just sign it.
- No.

Just no. Emphatically no.

- This land thing
was their choice,

not yours.

You can leave your
property to whoever you want!

The Humane Society,
Doctors Without Borders,

the Broadway League Foundation.

- Leave Anthony
out of this, please.

If they wanted it so badly,

why did they forget
to have it in the will?

- This is what they wanted.
Does that mean nothing to you?

- Clearly it means more to you.

Perfect Abby.

Always does what
makes mommy happy.

Never rocks the boat.

- You broke their hearts.

You left the priesthood.
You married a...

A- a wonderful guy
who I personally love

and knows every lyric
Stephen Sondheim ever wrote.

And, still, you
were their favorite.

Mm-hm.

You won.

My third-favorite
little brother.

You went against everything
they ever taught us,

everything they ever dreamed...

and, in the end, they
loved you more, anyway.

Yay for you, Philly.

You won.

You know what?

Sign the papers, or don’t.

You can let me know by mail.

- You’re the boss,
Luke, as always.

But there is no sign of
anything psychokinetic,

only evil.

- So, your instruments
are telling you...

- My sense of common
decency tells me the Masseys

should be sealed in
a bell jar and studied!

Hey, Zooey, what did you...

- Those people are animals!

- So, we agree.

- I don’t think it’s
enough for the Hasans

to just be cast
into the pit of hell.

- The Hasans?

- We should set
them on fire first!

- The Hasans? Innocent victims

of the Masseys’ sick,
raccoon-based perversions?

- No one should be told at
two o’clock in the morning

that their kiss is on
someone’s list. Without consent!

- You’re insane.

- Oh! You’re bald!

- You wear unnecessary
metal in your nose.

- Okay.
- Okay, before we say something...

- Oh, farmer boy!
- Needy girl!

- Needy? You’re
slipping, August!

Why only use two
syllables when six will do?

- You’re a quitter! You’ve
only been a real estate agent

for a few days and
already you want out!

Your father should
have taught you better.

Oh, wait, you
never really had a...

Oh!

- August, I am so sorry!

- Zooey...

You mean the world to
me and I cannot believe...

- I’m so sorry!

- Are you guys okay?

How long were you
inside those houses?

- Less than three hours.
- Four hours.

- But it isn’t enough just
to be inside the house.

You need to confront someone

who was recently
inside the other house.

That is when the
fireworks start.

- So, what? It-it’ll never end?

- People write songs and
sonnets about everlasting love.

But for true staying power...

hate takes the taco.

- A cow.

Damn cow.

- I hope you’re right.

Phil... make it fast.

- I’m minutes away.

It’s on, alright.

Bring it! Bring it on!

- Don’t do this! Don’t do this!

- Ambrose! Parker!

It’s not their fault! It’s
a curse... a blood feud.

Listen! Listen!

Back a 100 years ago,
this was all farmland.

Property line in the
exact same place.

Parker had cows.

Ambrose grew sorghum.
Everybody got along.

One day one of Parker’s
cows got into Ambrose’s crops.

Ambrose tied him up

intending to return
him by nightfall,

but things got
busy and he forgot.

Well, Parker saw that
Ambrose had one of his cows

and got mad as hell.

The two men came to blows
but the families split ’em up

and sent the sons out the
next day to build a fence.

These were hotheaded farm boys

and they started fighting.

First with words,
then with knives.

Shovels. Axes.

It turned into a slaughter.

They say the blood
ran into the postholes.

From that day on...

families on either
side of that fence...

hated each other.

- Ready?

- Yo. Philly.

- What are you doing here?

- The clock radio
in my hotel room

woke me up this morning

and was playing a
Judas Priest song.

And I thought of you.

- You know, I’m not sure

how I’m supposed
to feel about that, Abs.

- I realized

how you must have
felt about the church.

Whatever you decide
about the land thing, just...

send me the paperwork
and I’ll deal with it.

Or not.

Okay. That’s it.

Tell Ethan that...

Jesus doesn’t mind
when you spill his body,

but if you spill his blood,

mix three parts
hydrogen peroxide

to one part dish soap. It
gets the stains right out.

- Hm.

You are a good uncle.

Second favorite brother.

Hey.

- Luke! It’s perfect.

Tarik was just saying
now that the fence is gone,

we can have full-sun hibiscus
running all the way down.

- I’m so glad to talk plants
with someone. Mina’s hopeless.

So’s Rowan.

- What a tragic waste of time.

The Masseys just told me
they’re no longer selling.

- Yeah, the Hasans
feel the same way.

- Poor Alvin. He nearly
bounced into eternity and...

- died in vain.
- Hm.

Just out of curiosity,

what do you think
happens when we die?

- I have no idea.

But it probably affects
your credit scores.

- No? Hell, no?

- No.

Hell, yes.

I signed the damn papers over.

Our ancestral land is going
to be a vacation bible school,

or a... popemobile parking lot,

or a place where they train
Jesuits to fight in the octagon.

Better get a nice fruit
basket from the Vatican.

- Oh, honey.

- Just wasn’t worth
the fight, you know?

- You’re a good person.

- Mm. Not really.

But thank you.

Oh, any word from
the adoption people?

You gotta know,

as much as you want this
baby... and I do, too, we both do,

don’t get me wrong...

please don’t feel like we
need a baby to be a family.

- Yeah, I know. I-it’s just...

- Hey...

You and I...

we’re a better family than
most people will ever find.

Come here.

We can always get a dog.

- Good night, Zooey.
- Good night, Augie.

- Hey.

What August said
earlier: is it true?

- Yes.

The metal in my
nose is unnecessary.

The other thing.

- About quitting?

Not being an agent?

I...

I hate your job.

All of it!

The arguments with stupid
people who think they’re smart.

Rita Weiss being
my best friend...

the whole thing.

- But you’re good at it.

- Yeah, well, I’m
good at karaoke, too!

Doesn’t mean I want
to do it for a living.

Look, I...

I don’t know what my thing is.

Maybe I’ll never find my thing,

but I am absolutely
sure that this thing

is not my thing.

I’m really sorry.

- You haven’t heard
from, uh... Susan?

- No.

- Hi! You’ve reached
Susan Ireland.

I’m on a bit of a
sabbatical right now,

so if you need
immediate assistance,

press one. Otherwise,
leave me a message

and roll the dice!
Drink the wine!

Because life is a mystery

and the sun is
only a morning star!

- Damn it, Susan. What
do you want me to say?

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry that you
made it so easy

to laugh at your process, at
your color-coded paperclips.

I am sorry that you
did it so effortlessly

that I forgot how
good you really are.

I’m sorry that this place
just doesn’t seem to run

as good without you.

And, most of all, I am
sorry that I am saying it

to this credenza
instead of your face.