It was hardly a restful night; sleep came in bouts. My alarm beeped me awake, and for three blissful seconds I was without the memory of the evening before. But then I rolled over and saw the empty space beside me, and everything came back in a wave so strong it nearly washed me off the bed. I felt as though I’d been hit by a truck; the last time I’d looked at the clock it had been 4:36. I didn’t have any tears left, and there was a vacuum in the center of my body sucking at my insides.

I stayed in bed for a full ten minutes, trying to decide whether to go to work. What I really wanted to do was call someone and spill my guts, go through a box of tissues, and eat an entire box of Godiva chocolates. But then I realized I didn’t have anyone to call, because Dylan had been the person I had spilled everything to.

Dana was the closest thing I had to a friend those days, and she’d be at work. And since I’d need as much money as I could get now that Dylan wasn’t paying part of the rent, I knew I should probably go to work, too. Not the conclusion I’d been hoping to reach, but I was too responsible to do anything else. I pulled on my khakis—still on the floor from the night before—and a sweater lying crumpled on the floor of my closet. I threw on some makeup, but not enough to fix any of the damage that a sleepless night of crying had caused, and left.

I still beat everyone to the building, but instead of putting work off until after breakfast, I grabbed a bagel and dove into my in box. The last thing I wanted was downtime that would force me to think. I’d finished all the leftover invoices by the time Dana came in, but once she was there I let myself fall apart, and neither of us got anything done for an hour.

“He just left without saying anything?”

I shook my head, dabbing my eyes with a crumpled tissue. How much crying could one person do? “Nothing. He just moved all the boxes down, and I stood there staring at him like an idiot. I kept expecting him to say something, but he didn’t.”

Dana sat back in her chair, shaking her head. “Where is he now? Did he tell you where he was going?”

“No, and I have no idea where to even look. Not that I would bother. I certainly don’t want him around if he’s going to be like that.”

“Absolutely; he’s not worth the time it would take to even start thinking about where to look. It’s his loss, honey; he doesn’t deserve you.”