I called you before I came, but you didn’t answer. I thought I should have went home, but then again, I suppose I did by walking toward you. I checked for your car before I entered your building. It was there. You probably were too. I walked up your steps and walked down the hallway to your door. I knocked and I listened. Nothing. I knocked and I waited. Nothing. I knocked again, losing hope. I heard movement. No answer. I went for my keys. Your keys. A fail-safe. A lifeline. You answered the door and rubbed sleep from your eyes. I blinked tears from mine and you hugged me and I felt my panicked thoughts pause. Life is hard, and it’s harder when you’re alone in your head. Life is hard, but it’s easier when you tell me you understand. Time is passing and my wounds are still tender. I wish I didn’t need you to help with the mending, but there’s no one who does a better job. You called yourself “my ex,” but I’ll just call you Scott, for now, and I’ll probably call you too much. I don’t know what next week holds or even the next hour. But I’m glad you still answer when I knock and I’m glad you’re glad to see me. I used to think that I was sad that I would never be able to grow up with you. Now I realize that I am doing just that.