Every time you couldn't sleep (which was quite often nowadays), you'd disappear for an hour and half onto your balcony to smoke cigarettes. You always wished it was dark, but it's never really dark in Los Angeles. So everything would always be illuminated by the large, every-changing billboard off in the horizon.

One late night, in the middle of one of these depressing sessions, you heard the sliding door open behind you. It was Dave, your husband.