Some days the clocks move the opposite way depending on her mood. She could never control the amount of time she needed. Just the objects that measured how long she had been lost. 4 am had always come much too quickly when she left for work. I always tried to be conscious to see her off and help her stop crying. Absence makes the heart grow weaker and the absence of sleep did the same to her emotions. All that is remembered for sure is the rustle of winter coats, wet skin, nausea, and ice crunching beneath boots. Could I have expected I would have ever appreciated sadness?