I woke up alone in my room on a Thursday, raindrops bouncing off the windows like a perfect requiem. I called him and said I needed to see him. He sounded happy. I told myself it was because I was going to kill us, but of course he didn't know that yet. An hour later he sat in front of me at a coffee shop, breathing my air. He could see I'd been crying but didn't ask.
You know what you said about being afraid of hearing my final heartbeat, I said. He nodded.
Well, I think this is the one. I've fallen apart.