I walk to a place outside, away from home.  It takes an unknown amount of time to get there, the same amount of time to return.  When I get there, I pause.  I face myself, she faces back.  We stare at our reflection, waiting for the other to make a move.  When she moves, I move.  We step back.  We turn.  The walk back is vapid, lame.  I didn't realize what I left behind for her.  She took my grief.  She took my volition.  She took my strength away.  I won't make that walk again for some time.  I can't face her again.