Through The Glass, Darkly

          I peer through the thick glass, and reach for the telephone receiver. The face on the other side is pasty white. The eyes are dark and sunken into their sockets with dark circles beneath them. The skin is tightly drawn over delicate bones, as if stretched to the limit. The lips are cracked and peeling.

          I put my hand on the glass, as if touching it can bring us closer. A hand reaches up and places it over mine - from the other side of the glass. It's as close as we can get, this glass touching.

          In my pain, I don't know what to say, so I say what comes first. "Hi, how are you doing?"

          The answer is dull, lifeless. "Fine, I guess."

          "I love you so much," I manage, as the tears begin cascading down my cheeks and dripping onto the counter top. "I just love you so much, and I'm so sorry."

          The pain between us, the unuttered words - the agony of the moment - all summed up in one short sentence pregnant with meaning. "I love you so much. We'll get through this, a minute at a time."

          We continue reaching out, tears flowing unashamedly, until it is time to go. Tomorrow we will do it again, until the nightmare is over.