“Do you think there’s even anyone else on this planet?” she says while looking out of the window at the empty community playground and the closed front doors.
“How will I make it without you, when you’re going so far away again?” is a sentence I start hearing regularly about two, three days before I leave. My heart breaks.
“Just come home,” she says, interrupting me when I’m showing her the floor plan of our flat. “Not yet,” I reply.