The snow is falling.

I watched it fall as I swung the mop along the floor.

It was so satisfying watching the floor become clean, so clean, right in front of my eyes.

I looked out the window and saw giant flakes fall from the sky.

He called while I was cleaning the bathrooms at work.

He said to call after I got off work.

I did.

He must have fallen asleep. And who can blame him. I didn't get out of there until late. And he's always tired.

Uggh. I hate that I'm sad about this.

Why can't I just not care?

I feel like he's allowing me to love him. He's letting me care for him. That's about as much room as he has for me right now. He will let me care.

As I type this, it feels so utterly insignificant, but frankly, that's a lot right now.

I just keep waiting for the phone call when he'll tell me to move on forever. Or maybe he won't. I don't know. I don't know anything anymore. He's a mystery wrapped in a conundrum.

When he told me to call after work, I imagined the worst possible conversation unfolding.

But it never happened.

Because he fell asleep.

I wish I could fall asleep so easily. I wish I would stop imagining the worst.