Whenever I hear a car roll down my street, I stop and think for a second that it might be you. I know it's just my brain playing tricks on me. I know it isn't you. It never is. And still, when I hear the engine stop and a car door slam shut, my stomach ties itself in knots. I know it isn't you. It never is. And here I am, looking out my window at the empty street, pretending not to acknowledge how absolutely ******* pathetic this is.