But here’s the thing nobody tells you.

I still wake up before eight. I still set two cups on the counter. I still catch myself at 8:17, listening for a knock that isn’t coming anymore.

Thirty-nine years I waited too long to save myself. I couldn’t do it. I just outlasted him.

So I saved her instead. And I’d do it a hundred more times.

But God, this kitchen is quiet again.