My mouth is dry. I lost myself again. I sat down for a moment and started thinking. I’m pretty sure I was trying to remember the name of this one song I used to like when I was a kid, but one thought started another and now here I am, my mouth dried up and my eyes watering like I haven't blinked in a century. My body feels relaxed, like I just woke up.

I stand up, but not to do anything really. I'm restless. There's this energy running through me, but it's listless, it's stale. There's nothing out there that could satisfy me and somehow I know that.

Without meaning to, my eyes start tracing the wall, running over every bump and imperfection in the paint, picking up new details that will be forgotten in a few seconds. They find that same crack running quietly up one corner and I can’t help but wonder, like the first time I saw it, whether you noticed it when you first checked in. There's a stray shirt and a pair of socks balled up near it from I don't know how many days ago. I'll have to do the laundry again soon.

I can hear the faint noise of a plane passing overhead. That sound still takes me back, you know, to the airport, driving in much too early because I had forgotten what time you were coming in and I was certain I was already late. I thought every plane that flew by was yours and all I could think about was how mad you'd be if I left you waiting.

I stood there for a full hour before I heard a rumor going around about a crash. My heart raced a little. An announcement followed that confirmed the rumor. Then my heart raced a lot, but I still couldn't remember for the life of me which flight was your's. So I waited.

I waited for eight hours. I didn't want to believe it was your flight because by that time they had already announced the survivors and your name wasn't on that list. I just stood there, praying to God I was wrong, but somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I wasn't. It was all I could do to keep from vomiting.

Months later and I still can't bring myself to leave the last place I knew you were. I go to sleep knowing it's where you last slept and still wake up confused when you're not there.

Maybe tomorrow I'll check out.