So far from her, we were in another universe, Martians who did not live where she lived. She couldn't understand how sadness could push us back underneath the covers, how the pillows collapsed under the weight of our heads as we struggled to get out of bed each morning. I told her that I was moving to Vegas but I wouldn't forget. I would still think about her in the silent spaces when conversation fell off, I said. I wished that things really did get better. I couldn't tell her but I didn't believe in that anymore. He said that he would bring her by before I left, let her visit for a while so that I could say goodbye. But he never came. I waited for a week by the front window, jumping every time a red car turned down our street, my heart slipping into my stomach like a brick as they all rolled by.