xy. jolie prather i counted      down        the          days        like a fool like a man in prison thinking, hoping - worse, believing: he will come back for me and lifting myself up to that glass, day after day after night        waiting my tiny allotment of time: ten minutes twelve days twenty-six hours an infinity of vacated seconds and nothing      no one      not a breath      not a line of text      not a voice just nothing, and: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 of the happiest, foggiest, most wasted days of my life.              thank you for that. XY.