I keep thinking I’ll see you. That you’ll show up like you usually do. You’ll pop out from around the corner with a look on your face like you’re so happy to see me. I want to tell you how I got robbed. I’ll make a joke about it like I have been doing. Maybe you’ll see through it, maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll tell me that I’m stronger than I think. Maybe you’d tell me to remember all of the details. Tell me to print it on to pages. It’ll just be another chapter right? You’re just another chapter right?