I awoke to find my iphone buried beneath my pillow and rushed to plug it in, with a lump in my throat the size of the bitten, black apple that glowed on the screen. Please, God, tell me I didn’t. I did. I texted you at 2am, again. I placed my pride, like Moses, in a straw basket and let it drift into the rushing river, only to awake half clothed, at 10am, covered in MacDonald’s and run…no… fly, down to where the river meets the ocean, to try and catch it.