You used to hate being sang 'happy birthday' to, but now that it's gone, you almost miss that awkward feeling. Being forgotten, as disappointing as it always will be, it never fails to be familiar.

But now Phillip is at your door with an umbrella, a messy homemade cake that he so obviously struggled to make (for you) in his hands. You are important to somebody, and that may be enough.

"I know it ain't perfect, but I tried my hardest." He breathes, waiting for you to invite him in.