I walk to a place outside, away from home. It takes an unknown amount of time to get there, the same amount of time to return. When I get there, I pause. I face myself, she faces back. We stare at our reflection, waiting for the other to make a move. When she moves, I move. We step back. We turn. The walk back is vapid, lame. I didn't realize what I left behind for her. She took my grief. She took my volition. She took my strength away. I won't make that walk again for some time. I can't face her again.