Letters for someone you carry

This one is for the sentence 'I should have called.'

I should have called.

That's the whole letter, so the rest of this is me trying to earn the sentence.

The last voicemail you left is still on my phone. I know it by heart now, the way you know a road you drive at night: mostly by feel. You said you were fine. You weren't fine.

I told myself to wait for a quieter day. There were no quieter days. There were only days I chose quiet.

You think I forgot you. The truer thing: you lived in the ten minutes before sleep, every night, for a year. I just couldn't get the call past my throat.

This isn't to get anything back. It's so you know the call was never unwanted, only unsent. And now it's sent.

Call me back, or don't. If you do, I'll pick up on the first ring.

Sample from the desk. For one of your own: [email protected]. First opening free.