I Went to Return My Neighbor’s Pliers – When He Opened the Door, My Legs Gave Out and I Shouted, ‘What Does It All Mean?!’

At the door, I paused.

“You don’t have to check on me,” I said. “I’m not going to fall apart. But thank you for saving my bathroom.”

“I know,” he replied.

“But if you do, you can sit here again.”

He looked at me like it was obvious.

“Because no one should have to come back to themselves… alone.”

I walked upstairs slowly, barefoot now, sandals dangling from my fingers. According to a text from my husband, he’d be home in a few days — that could have meant anything from two to six days.

He hadn’t confirmed. He rarely did anymore.

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