I've got a skipping track and messy room to keep me company. I decide to paint my nails black instead of painting my wrist red. Tears blur my vision and my chest tightens.
And I miss my friends, family, and everyone else all at once. I wonder how long it'll take for the house to be clean, and for the windows to be fixed.
Or for me to stop worrying that you're both unsafe. I'm praying to God, "Protect them. Protect them. Protect them." And I conclude that this will be the longest hour of my life.