"I'm not really hungry," I admit with a cough of helpless laughter, feeling like my stomach's lodged up into the back of my throat. For a moment, I wonder if I can do any of this, at all. If I'm just fooling myself into thinking we'll ever be okay.

I want him to be able to talk to me, but it's like forcing my hand into a fire, every single time. I don't know what I'm supposed to do.