"You're healing," he said, and all i could think about was the way i still reach for my phone to check work email...it's deactivated. like a phantom limb, still itching for something that isn't there anymore, i need a cortado. God, the phantom limb. Mine is the carefully curated patience I used to summon for my toddler. I don't HAVE to do that anymore, but I still brace myself...for the screaming that never comes.