It had been three days. Three days since she'd offered. Three days since he'd turned her down. Three days since he'd began wondering what a normal life would be like and three days since he'd remembered why a normal life was something he could never have.

He'd never sang in public before, well, never sober anyways, there was that one night in that crazy karaoke bar in LA, but he couldn't be sure if that was real or a dream.

He'd been terrified when he got on that stage, more scared than he'd ever been, even when facing down a dozen terrorists, all packing heat with their weapons pointed at him. He took the punishment, it was what he did, but staring into the face of over a hundred people, with expectations of him, that was more terrifying than any war he'd been in, or started.

But as he sat down, took a breath and started playing, everything and everyone else just fell away, there was just him and his guitar and a song that described him so perfectly he wished he had the skills to write like that. He could close his eyes and see Aimee, see his life before, well, before it became what it was now, but halfway through he remembered why he'd let her go.

Kaye Lynne was there, knowing exactly who and what he was, cheering him on, wanting him to be part of her life, wanting him to be normal with her.

But normalcy wasn't something he could have.

So, three days had passed since he'd said goodbye, but he couldn't quite say farewell. With guitar in hand, he wrote –

I've been sittin' on the fence for way too long,

Warming that bench as chance moves on

And believe me, that ain't no way to live.

And this barely gettin' by is really gettin' old

And it's hard to turn a wrench on a rusty bolt

But someday, something's gotta give.