There is a charred hole in the desert, just a stones throw from my home, that we all seem to be lost in. I am a pilot's wife, who is currently caught up in someone else's despair.
It is a slow Winter's death as the weight of the frost on our emotionally frail limbs leaves us feeling fractured, exchanging too many kisses and I love you's before the car picks him up for a flight.
I am more conscious of near misses on the sidewalk, not wanting to step on the cracks and have my luck change... I need him to come home...
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