As the minutes pass, I become more and more frantic because you aren’t responding to my texts. I call and it goes straight to voicemail. Where could you possibly be? It’s been two hours, and you still aren’t home. Before I can open my eyes, I feel the burning in my belly, such a familiar sensation after these many months. The tears begin to choke me. My diaphragm seizes. I sit up. Wipe my cheeks. It was all a dream. Except the part about my unanswered calls. You’re still gone. And I’m still here.