‘This doesn’t make any sense…’

A shock to the heart is bodily. I feel like I’ve been kicked, over and over, until I’m weak and defeated. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep for more than 35 minutes at a time. I shove my head into feather pillows at 5AM, willing my mind to rest. To stop thinking. To stop remembering that my loved one has chosen to have nothing more to do with me.

Two miles away — ten minutes in a taxi, I know it well — I suspect that he sleeps soundly, as he always does. His conscience…

Izzy Rogers

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