Chapter 6

He’s always thinking of you.

* * * *

Somehow he makes it home. The house he shared with you—the one place your memory lives on, so palatable he can almost touch you here. Sometimes, in his sleep, he reaches out but his fingers only brush empty air and he chokes back a sob. Then, in the morning, he wakes with his face buried in a damp pillow. Those days he calls in sick, saying he can’t make it to the office, not today…he hopes they understand.

They always do. Even now, almost a year later, they still understand.