It’s another late afternoon of coming home to an empty house, and I don’t know how much longer I can do it. It doesn’t matter that he sleeps here every night; the absence between us is so profound I feel it every hour of every day. 
A house without him hurts more than the thought of fighting with him. 
At least if we’re fighting, he’d be here. 
No matter how angry he is, or how much his words hurt, I want him here. I don’t believe in distance, I don’t believe in taking a break. And he knows that.

📚What We Broke