The sound of my phone ringing wakes me up ruthlessly and way too early, it's Chloe on the other end of the line, her voice an arrow through the airwaves. "I'm at Newark" she says, "are you coming for me?"
I get up in a daze, put on something black and hail a taxi on 5th, my heart a violent uproar through Lincoln Tunnel (and no names are written in the condensation on the window).
I make my way through the crowds in the terminal building and I see her, my body a tumbling waterfall over polished stone floors. "I have something for you" she says and hands me a pretty little pink origami butterfly.
And now she's here, sitting next to me on my bed, our breaths like thunderstorms through the silence. I touch her chestnut hair with my fingertips every five minutes, just to make sure it's really true.