He said we would finish our conversation “tomorrow or at least sometime soon,” but yesterday was “tomorrow” and today is 34 minutes shy of being over. I know this because I spent my day watching my laptop’s digital clock, tracking the infuriating progress of numbers.

I slam the computer shut, furious at my pathetic display and furious at him for putting me in the position of such weakness. I immediately re-open the laptop with gentle hands reminiscent of an abusive lover’s apologetic caress the moment after a strike. Disgusted with myself, I press the power button.

No new messages.

The disgust is lost in a new wave of pain, a constant ache made all the more intense with the knowledge that I brought this on myself. The relief of freedom ended the moment ­reality set in, forcing me to realize the consequences of pushing him out of my life. I broke my own heart by leaving the one person with the pieces to put it back together.

Today becomes tomorrow, and I climb under the covers. I’m reassured into unconsciousness by the alert bell – set to notify me of any new messages.