“I miss you.â€?
No response.
It lingered in the already frostbitten air, the chill of November enveloping her for the first time since she’d escaped the warmth of her car. She’d sat debating whether or not to follow through with this intervention she’d called. She was angry, she missed him, she knew he would begin to miss her. She knew how he was. Well, used to be. It was only months, he couldn’t be different. Same hair, a little more built. More or less, the same. She hoped.
No response. Her voice seized, throat closed, not allowing her to scream, cry or speak. Having no choice, she turned and walked away, this was not quite what she had envisioned. Good was supposed to come out of this, not silence. She knew if he was one ounce of the same person he’d reach out to her, stop her, want her, need her. He wasn’t. She was going home. Another dream shattered.