— I’m sorry.
— For what?
— I used to lie in bed next to you and listen to you breathe in and out, and I would loathe the sound.  I would resent your right to air.  You were sucking up all the presidential oxygen, the rare air, the air I would’ve done anything to breathe.  And you didn’t even appreciate it.  You didn’t even want it.  I thought “How weak. How spoiled.” The view from here… the view from here.  Thing about the view from here is, there is no view.  Here, we are the view.  All eyes on us.  You aren’t weak.  You just aren’t power-hungry.  I never realized that.  I’m sorry.