I see the phone. Like a human, it makes me want to talk, ask questions. But I’m sitting here waiting, not for whoever the phone might be, but for you. It’s silent. Then I ask the air, “Who am I to be sitting here, waiting like this, when I can’t even bring myself to hear your whisper any longer?” The thought of it alone would destroy me. You no longer belong to anyone, to this world.

When the phone rings, I ring too. With excitement and nervousness, I reach my hand out and pick up. It’s not you. Of course it wouldn’t be. I know you can’t call - won’t call - any more. So, like a toddler with its blanket, I take myself to sleep to find you in my dreams.