I hate a free day, for all it is waiting for me to fill it with. What does the day expect me to do? It’s not like it comes with instructions. No outline, no example. Nor does it come with a list of people I am supposed to spend it with or places I am supposed to visit. “Can you please demonstrate how this day is supposed to go,” I ask politely. I never get an...

I scoured the mattress looking for you this morning. I ran my hands over the wrinkled sheets, slid my fingers into soft, dark crevices of cotton and polyester. I even peaked under the pillows, my hands searching with anxious anticipation for any sign of you. At first I was relieved that I hadn’t slept on you But as I slowly lifted the “guest” pillow and found...