“Are you the one who is supposed to put me back together when the pieces are all over the place…? All the king’s horses and all the king’s men?”
It was 3:00 a.m. She skipped the hello; he didn’t notice.
“Come over. Bring your pieces,” he responded. Their back-and-forth was back again.
She held the phone, crying.
“I don’t want you to be alone,” he said. Same line as always. Not even a tone change.
“I’ll be fine.”
“I know, but you don’t have to be ‘fine’ alone.”
“That’s just it. I do…”
The finally-finished feeling hung heavy between them.
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