I am that person suspended in time, walking this earth in a body split in two.

The pain is a chasm I cannot cross. I try not to look into the chasm but even a glance sends me violently to the bottom. A photo, a letter, the grown child, and today, a note you left in a tiny book you gave me.

I squeeze my eyes shut and my face contorts as if I could hold back the water welling up in my eyes and the bottomless sorrow.

My heart stops again.