The buzzer rang I rushed down the stairs it must be you but only the mailman, a package, I didn't feel my pupils contract when I stepped outside into midday light to blindly sign for it. you weren't there to help me determine how many pounds of sunlight had fallen to the earth this morning, or to notice as a singular luminous beam through the vestibule window hit the mailbox key dangling from my finger and was deflected onto my cheek or to register the distance between that key and the sun that diffused its heat preventing my cheek from having a hole burned into it lone orb, one star of billions, that would have melted each snowflake but instead they were keys, (as any internist can see, no two livers are exactly the same shape--all of us having the untapped potential to recognize one another according to the unique shapes of our livers) and you weren't there to see that when I checked my mail today there was no word from you next