My jaw has been hurting for days now.
Over and over I imagine what might really be wrong.
My phone buzzes, returning my lonely call.
Months of gray press on me until I want to scream.
“One day at a time,” she says gently when I call, picking up because she always will.
My breath comes easier; my heart rate slows.
Midnight her time, nearly, and she’s still online, studying.
Over my books, I stare bleary-eyed at the screen, wanting to hear her voice.
My fingers press Skype before I can stop them, and she picks up, of course.