I wait for you to come home. My heart is pounding and I’m so excited to talk to you, to ask you about your day and also share mine. Lately, things haven’t been happening that way. I read your texts every morning and listen to the voice messages I once thought were so sweet and caring. When you come home now, you never ask me how I am, or how my day was, you launch into a monologue about everything and nothing and I sit… and I listen. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? How is it that the sound of your voice, which used to bring me comfort, falls into the hollow forming in my chest every time I answer your phone call. Now I sit in silence, as pieces of me shatter and flake away like old paint…and you just trudge right along, unaware.