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See, they really need to get some phones up there, wherever you are, because who am I going to ask about this now, huh?

It’s been three days without any word from you.

Three days.

The last time we were apart for more than three days was… well, never really.

You only stayed two nights when you went to Wyoming…

You had that work trip two years ago, remember? That was the only time we didn’t see each other that long, and it was only three days…

Tomorrow it will be four…

Please come home.

Week One.

People stopped coming over, well except for both our parents and Chiara… of course.

And the phone stopped ringing.

I got a call from your beloved Hawthornes, Lily was very sweet, but I didn’t say much…

We were supposed to spend next summer there, remember? You were going to show me the ranch, those blue skies you keep talking about and the family you left behind…

Instead I’ll spend the summer alone in Chicago while you’re in an urn.

One whole week without you and I feel like I’m losing my mind in this apartment. Was it always this big? Or is it just different now?

Everything is different now…

They want me to go back to work next week. What do they mean… work?

I can’t work! I can barely muster up the energy to get out of bed.

But then I notice you’re not in it with me and I get up just to stop missing you.

I can’t do this, Dami.

I can’t.

Please come home.

Week Two.

They fired me today.

Okay, so before you raise that brow, I told them I wasn’t ready to go back, but did they listen? Nope.

Apparently you need to be depressed to get more than two weeks off when your spouse dies. Who the hell made that law, huh?

Whoever it was must have never really loved and lost someone.

I’m somehow expected to function without you?

Can’t they see I don’t? I stopped functioning just like you! But I don’t see your boss telling you to go back!

So I told an author her story sucked, so what? It totally did! Why did I have to sugarcoat it?