It’s almost dawn and I’m lying on my bed. I’ve barely slept, waiting for him to come back, with a million thoughts running through my brain, tormenting me into oblivion. His phone is here, not smashed thankfully, despite it hitting a marble floor. At some point I regained enough sense to wander over and pick his things up, like a mute zombie trying to find something to do besides stare at a closed elevator. I left them on the kitchen counter. I paced like crazy, cried myself sick with heartbreak, disappointed in myself then ended up in here hoping to try and sleep.

I’m wretched and anxious and all I...