I'm scared. I'm feeling it again -- that feeling that she's supposed to be here, that we're supposed to be together. The feeling that I would turn and tell her something in the most ordinary of ways, that this ordinary moment, standing here in the produce section of the grocery store, is a shared one. But she's not here. I'm scared because of why she is not here. I'm not enough. I'm too much. But mostly that I am not in control of my life.