It has been three weeks.

Three weeks since everything went to hell, and I could barely remember how I’d made it through them. Work has swallowed me whole, meetings, reports, numbers, faces that I didn't care to remember. All of that just blurred into one huge stretch of nothingness.

I hadn't thought of him much. Or at least that’s what I try to tell myself.

But there would be silence between tasks, those rare moments where I could take a break, and my thoughts would wander and stray. I would find myself glancing at the clock, wondering what he was doing, if he had eaten, if he was getting enough...