Anticipation drips down my body. It follows the curve of my back and dribbles down my spine. I stare out the window but i’m not really looking at anything. I breathe slowly, timing each breath with the hum of the radiator. I don’t know what I am waiting for; I know you’ll never come back. Yet still my heart aches to hear the doorknob jiggle. It never does. I sit, loathing in a sea of disappointment. I regain focus and stare out the window again. I suppose that I'm looking for any signs of you: your car, the mailman, maybe even the slightest chance that I could find your footprints in the snow and follow them to where you are. Look, now I’ve gone crazy. Except, I already am crazy. I even have a doctor to prove that. But when you are near, I don’t feel so bad. When you are here, I want to be better.

I don’t know where you are but you’ve been gone for days. I stand up and pace the apartment. My eyes scan the room for signs of you. Your existence is minimal. Who knows if you even existed? I’ve been known to make things up in my mind. Is that why you left? You promised me that you would always be here. Did it get too hard for you to stay? I tried my best to make it easier. Maybe if I try harder, you’d come back…

I walk to the counter and reach for the tiny, translucent bottle. One pill. Not good enough. Two pills. Maybe. Three pills. I don’t feel anything. Two more just to be sure. Soon enough the whole bottle is gone and I lay on the floor. I cannot feel my own body. The world is spinning. You are still not here. I shut my eyes.