I called her twice last night, but she didn't answer.
It's Monday morning, and I'm sat at Thorpe's, half dreading the moment she will walk through the door and half fearing she won't come at all.
I'm sat at her table in anticipation of her hopefully imminent arrival. My eyes dart to the door every time I hear it open, but she doesn't come.
For the first day in over a month, I might not see her, and that thought doesn't sit well with me.
I grow impatient. I need her here where she belongs. I want her with me. I want to wrap her up in my arms so I can protect her from whatever demons keep her away from me.
It doesn't matter what I want. She won't let me care for her. She won't let me love her. My mind is a mess; she won't let me protect her.
I give up waiting after an hour and a half of being stood up. I can't believe she didn't come. I'd hoped we could talk this through, fix it together but that doesn't seem to be an option.