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On my way to the bathroom I open his message. E: Mi alma, my bed is cold without you. I need you to come home. Me: Home would indicate we live together, E. We do not. I set my phone down on the counter and turn on the shower. As I’m pulling my pajamas over my head, the phone vibrates across the marble. E: We do live together. You just haven’t accepted that fact yet. Doesn’t make it any less true, though. Me: You need serious mental health help. E: No, what I need is you. Me: I’m getting in the shower. E: I want to watch. Video call me. Before I can respond, his face is flashing across the screen. I accept the call and place the phone back down on the counter, giving him a direct view of the ceiling.