Your hand shrinks around my throat, looking for hope. You want to strangle life from me because I haven’t said “I Love You” in days. We walk through our home like ghosts, passing through one another, but cannot feel the connection. Our tongues are swallowed, the silence speaks aloud. It this the end? It can’t be. Our heartbeats are present, navigating us home day after, day. I hear yours and I know you hear mine. Yet, we waste days in stubbornness believing we are honoring principles. I finally glance your way on the way to the kitchen, your lips part, the dialogue starts, and we start reconstructing our home again….