When W. and I were in the thick of it, deep in the shadowed woods of our combustable love, I'd come home from wherever we were together, having driven myself alone because he always showed up solo, always walking into my empty apartment I got hoping he'd move in one day and we'd be able to go home together like the happy couple I wanted us to be, I'd come home alone and sit in front of the wall heater in the hallway and cry.